Inner Battles
by fyd818
Summary: There are two people inside me, and I fear that the other is going to win and destroy us all. AU, RononTeyla
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own "Stargate: Atlantis." I am in no way trying to make a profit off this story, I am merely writing it and posting for my and other people's enjoyment.

Synopsis: There are two people inside me, and I fear that the other is going to win and destroy us all. AU, RononTeyla

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence

Pairings: Ronon/Teyla

Spoilers: _Rising_; _The Gift_; _The Siege pt. 3_; _Runner_; _Duet_; _Trinity_; & _Sateda_

Title: _ Inner Battles_

Author: fyd818

Part 1/17

**Dedication**: To **SpaceMonkey0941**: (mega!)talented writer, fellow shipper, and my awesome friend. THANK YOU!!! -hugs-

Author's notes: I've had this idea rattling around in my head for a while and am just now getting around to writing it. A forum I frequently visit had a discussion on whether or not Ronon knew about Teyla's Wraith DNA, and that was what actually inspired me to write this thing down instead of letting it sit and stew in my head forever. This is definitely AU, and deals with the ramifications of Ronon finding out in the worst way possible about Teyla's Wraith DNA. I hope you enjoy this fic!

_**Inner Battles**_

_fyd818_

**-Prologue-**

I could hear them talking, in my mind. They were whispering to me, trying to break down the mental barriers I'd so carefully raised and turn me towards them.

Eventually I lost track of time, not knowing how long it had been since they'd taken me—it could have been two hours or two weeks. To keep them out of my mind, I sang until my voice was gone. Then I hummed. And, when my voice completely gave way, I would think of anything and everything except what they wanted most: Atlantis, my team, my _family_.

Sometimes I would think rescue came, only to have those familiar faces dissolve into the terrifying snarls of my Wraith captors. By now I wasn't sure if I knew what was real and what wasn't—after all, I'd already been rescued three times and killed twice, so who knew what was _actually_ happening to me right now?

I knew that the ones that the Wraith sought were out there looking for me; I also knew that they would find me. I hadn't lost hope yet, no matter how many hallucinations and dreams I'd had, but the only thing I was concerned about was whether or not I'd know if it was real when (not if) they came for me.

My captors were pressing against the barriers around my mind again, trying to make me break so they could get into my mind and discover all they wished to know about Atlantis and everyone I loved. I fought back the same way I had been doing for the eternity I'd been here: I closed my eyes, placed my hands over my ears, and began to hum. It was an aimless tune that dear Charin had sung to me when I was a little girl. That helped me to redirect my thoughts to the past, and away from everything and everyone I was currently missing.

Suddenly the assault against my mind stopped, without preamble or warning. I dared to open my eyes and uncover my ears, wondering if I had somehow figured out how to block them from my mind, or if they had stopped the assault to lure me into a sense of false security so that they could attack me again and catch me off-guard.

Or perhaps it was neither. . .

At first I honestly believed I was hallucinating again, because the very scene from a hundred of my dreams, both waking and sleeping, was playing out before me. He was standing there by the door to my prison, teeth bared in a very familiar expression of hate and rage, weapon poised to blast the controls that opened and closed it.

In the time it took me to blink, he had moved from the doorway and was now kneeling beside me. His green eyes had lost the angry luster that had made them glitter before as they studied me quietly, as if making sure I was as real as I wondered if he was. However, the slightest spark still lurked beyond the tender concern that masked his face as well as his eyes.

My painfully dry lips parted, and all I could force past my abused throat (from my singing/humming and screaming alike) was a croaked: "Real?"

He knew what I was asking; his expression told it all. I had only seen the expression that transformed his face once before, that look of all-consuming pain that wrenched at my heart.

He had feared for me then, too. It was an expression that I had fervently prayed he'd never wear again; yet here he was. . . Or was he? I wasn't sure anymore what was real and what wasn't.

He grabbed my unsteady hands and lifted them to his face, giving me the chance to feel the warmth of his grasp, assuring me that he was real, there, and had come to rescue me.

Just like I had known he would.

"Real," he whispered in affirmation, his voice unusually rough. For a moment I thought he was going to drag me to him and kiss me absolutely senseless, but almost as soon as that emotional expression crossed his face it was gone again. In its place was the businesslike expression that I was familiar with—I had worn the same look too many times in my own life, when business had to come before relief and all other emotions.

He didn't bother to ask me if I could walk—he could probably tell just by looking at me that I couldn't. Like the chivalrous hero in the book Doctor Weir had given me to read, he easily lifted me into his arms and headed towards the door, that look of hate and rage slowly creeping back onto his face, and into his eyes.

Our escape was a complete blur in my mind: it was a jumble of Wraith screams, human battle cries, and gunfire traded back and forth from both sides of the fight. It was not until my rescuer literally dropped to his knees with me in the back of the ship waiting to take me—_us_—home that it truly hit me.

Ronon Dex had come for me, like I knew and he had promised.

But still I _knew_ that the nightmare I'd somehow just lived through was only just beginning.

_-To Be Continued-_


	2. Anguish

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 2/17

**-Chapter 1-**

_Anguish_

Teyla Emmagan pulled her covers to her chin, closed her eyes, and sighed heavily. Upon her return to Atlantis Carson Beckett had run numerous tests on her and listened with a caring ear as she (somewhat timidly) voiced her concerns. However, everything came back with no signs of problems or lasting side effects, so the doctor allowed her to go to her quarters to get the first good night's sleep she'd have had in two days.

Sleep. Her lips curled upwards sardonically, and she shook her head into her pillow. How could she do that when her mind was still spinning, and she was afraid to close her eyes because she was terrified that she would dream of the demons that had haunted her for what felt like so much longer than two days?

Teyla rolled onto her back and stared up at her ceiling, washed silvery-white by the moonlight streaming in the windows. The pain her body had eased now that she was back home (perhaps most of it had been the proximity of the Wraith to her?), but she still felt so tired and drained, emotionally and physically. Already both Doctor Weir and Doctor Beckett had suggested she go see the city's resident psychologist, Kate Heightmeier, but she wasn't sure what she would say.

How could she tell someone else about the confused emotions inside her when she didn't even understand them herself?

She restlessly flipped over onto her side, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest. There was an ache inside her, one that she didn't dare mention to anyone. She wasn't sure if it was physical or emotional, but she knew what had caused it. The deep gashes across her back, stomach, and upper arms were testimonials to what the Wraith had put her through when they _weren't_ trying to invade her mind. Those would be constant reminders of what happened to her, all because of what she believed in, because she dared fight back, and most of all, because of who she was.

Teyla was not one to employ invectives, but a vile word slipped past her control before she could stop it. For two years now she'd lived with the knowledge that she had part of _them_ inside her. For her entire _life_ she'd been subjected to the coldness deep within her stomach whenever the Wraith came to cull her planet. And, more recently, she'd been forced to try to keep them out of her mind as they tried to use her connection to them against her. All this was caused by her enemy—years of heartache, pain, illness, and mental distress.

She curled into a fetal position and hugged the pillow tighter, hissing sharply when the pain inside her increased. Her eyes clenched shut against the fiery agony, and she forcefully swallowed back a whimper. Sweat formed a smooth sheen on her forehead and trickled down her temples as she fought for control, the pain causing her to momentarily forget that she was once more safe at home on Atlantis.

_Control yourself!_ The thought shrieked at her like the high-pitched scream of her Wraith captors. _Don't allow weakness in, don't let them know they're winning. . ._don't let them in

The fire in her chest ebbed away, leaving her shaking. She recognized the familiar surroundings of her quarters, and she allowed herself to release the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

_What have they _done_ to me?_ Suddenly she felt claustrophobic in her quarters, like the walls were pressing in on her. Fear flared up inside her. Hardly thinking about what she was doing, she threw aside her blanket and pillow and ran for her door, gasping in breaths as she ran. In a nearly blind panic, she allowed her fear and instincts to carry her through the night-dimmed halls to a single door, which she frantically pounded on in demand for entrance.

Teyla didn't even realize where—or rather, _whom_—she'd run to until the doors suddenly opened and her flying fist landed against Ronon's solar plexus. He grunted softly at the impact and reached out long arms, snagging her by the shoulders. "_Teyla_!"

His voice, sharp with control and command, snapped her out of her fear-stricken stupor. "Ronon! Wha—what happened?" She felt confused and disoriented.

The same concern she'd seen earlier crept back into his eyes. "You came pounding at my door like you were trying to wake the dead. I think maybe I'd better take you back to the infirmary—you look a little. . ."

She quickly stepped back and shrugged off Ronon's hands. "I am fine," she snapped. "I just. . ." The look on his face gave her pause, making her feel bad for raising her voice to him. Remorseful, she hung her head a little and admitted quietly: "I suppose I just wanted to make sure that everything was real. That I was home safe again."

Ronon's expression softened slightly, though he still looked concerned. She supposed she couldn't blame him; she probably looked terrible. "If you're _sure_ you're okay. . ." He sounded reluctant to let her go.

Teyla managed a smile. For the first time since that horrible feeling had first appeared in her chest, she couldn't feel any pain. _The soothing presence of love heals all wounds._ She pushed away the line from an old Athosian poem (she would no doubt have plenty of time to ponder that subject later) and nodded her head firmly. "I actually feel better than I have in a while, actually. I am sorry to have disturbed you. Good night." She turned to go, but Ronon caught her arm.

Looking flustered at her questioning glance, he let go of her and shrugged his shoulders self-consciously. "I'll walk you back to your quarters," he offered with one of his rare smiles.

Teyla opened her mouth to object, but found that the words didn't want to pass her throat. How many times during her incarceration had she idyllically dreamed of a scene like this? "Thank you." She tactfully refrained from commenting that she would encounter no trouble in the halls; in truth, she was glad he was there. It was yet another way to assure herself that she was home, and everything was going to be all right again. In time the pain in her chest would fade, just like her physical scars and her mental anguish.

She just had to firmly keep believing that, no matter how much her instincts were whispering differently.

_-To Be Continued-_


	3. Emotions

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 3/17

**Dedication**: This chapter is dedicated to _leadfingers_—best friend, fantastic artist, and a true sister. Thank you, girl!

**-Chapter 2-**

_Emotions_

With much trepidation (and a good deal of encouragement from Ronon), Teyla went to see Kate Heightmeier the next day. She knew that a session with the psychiatrist would most likely do more than anything to help her feel better about what happened to her. However, something was still holding back within her, so she shuffled with extreme reluctance into Kate's office.

"Welcome, Teyla," the doctor greeted. She stood with grace from her desk chair and motioned to the two plush seats arranged across from each other in front of the window. "Please, have a seat."

Teyla forced a polite smile and stiffly lowered herself onto the proffered chair. _ I do not want to be here. Why did I let Ronon talk me into this?_

Kate sat down in the other chair and placed her folded hands on her crossed knees. "Let me begin by saying that I am very glad that you came to see me. It is often much easier for your mind to deal with what has happened to you if you can talk openly about it. Get it off your chest, so to speak."

Teyla flinched a little. "So I have heard," she said. Immense was the effort she put forward to keep her tone from sounding sarcastic.

Kate noticed. "You don't need to feel fearful or nervous here, Teyla. At this point, we're not going to discuss anything about your captivity by the Wraith that you don't want to."

_That means I am allowed to leave, correct?_ She swallowed back the words, wondering why she'd thought them in the first place. This was going to help: that's what everyone was telling her. But still, perhaps it was better to keep it all inside and try to forget. "I-I really do not want to talk about any of it, not yet." She had might as well be honest if she was going to get any use out of this meeting.

Heightmeier cocked her head and studied Teyla thoughtfully. "All right. Let's come at this a different way. What relaxes you most when you are stressed?"

Teyla thought a moment, smiled a little, then said: "Sparring, I suppose. It helps me release tension."

Kate nodded, looking a little pensive. "Anything else?"

"Drawing." It had been a long time since she'd drawn anything, but she figured it couldn't hurt to give it a try again. How much talent could she have lost? "There is just something about it that helped me release my tension and concerns when I was younger. I have not done it in a long time, but. . ."

"It couldn't hurt to try it," Kate finished with a smile. "Those are two very excellent channels through which to release your stress. Though I doubt if you need to try to spar right now while your body is still trying to heal from the trauma it suffered. An hour of drawing, or a half-hour of meditation, would probably help you to unwind and clear your mind enough so you could come straight here without being stressed about it. You are fearful of speaking to me about those new and very raw memories that you hold inside you, so it's best if you do something first to relax yourself first."

Teyla glanced down at her hands, folded on her lap. "So you are suggesting I do one of those things before coming here for our appointment tomorrow?"

Kate nodded. "Yes. Now don't try to do too much and wear yourself out. Just try one, or a _little bit_ of both, before you come. Then we'll see how it goes."

She knew it was far too early to ask about resuming her normal duties, so she kindly thanked Doctor Heightmeier and left the woman's office feeling much better than she though she would after her first appointment.

Perhaps this entire business was not going to be _too_ bad after all.

**-Atlantis-**

Teyla spent two hours sorting through her belongings before she finally found the sketch pad and pencils she'd requisitioned from Earth almost two years previous. When she came to Atlantis, the surroundings had stirred up the desire to draw, but at that time she had nothing to draw on, or with. By the time the materials arrived, she was far too busy to do any drawing or sketching.

She set her art things aside for later use and quietly lit some candles before sitting down tailor-style on her bed. She drew in a deep, relaxing breath, allowing her eyes to slip closed as she rested her hands on her knees. Almost immediately she could feel the lethargy of mediation slip over her like the companionship of an old friend, and she rejoiced in that. After her captivity by the Wraith, she wasn't sure if she'd ever get her mind clear enough to meditate again.

Teyla had just achieved the deepest level of meditation she'd wanted to reach when a sharp knock on her door drew her attention and shattered her concentration. She mulled over her lack of ability to hold her concentration as she crawled off her bed and went to open the door.

"Ronon! Hello." Teyla swallowed nervously and stepped back, unconsciously tugging at the hem of her nightshirt and suddenly wishing it wasn't _quite_ so low-cut. "Come in."

Her ex-Runner friend didn't seem to notice her edginess as he entered the room. He paused just far enough inside the door so that it would close behind him. "I came to see how your session with Doc Heightmeier went."

She started to motion Ronon to a chair, then noticed how much things she had cluttering the place. "Oh—please pardon the mess—I was not expecting any company this evening." Flustered, Teyla snatched up her rumpled uniform jacket from the chair she'd dumped it on her way towards her shower and quickly stuffed it into her hamper. With one graceful swoop, she picked up her drawing materials from the single chair in the room and cocked her head towards it. "Please, sit." The place looked a little cleaner now; at least Ronon could sit down somewhere.

Ronon shot her a puzzled look as he reluctantly eased into the chair. "Journal?" he asked, nodding to the pad and pencils she was holding.

Teyla felt foolish at the blush that crept up her neck. "No." She left it at that as she set her drawing things down on her dressing table. "I am sorry—why are you here again?" Still nervous, she moved back to sit on her bed again, facing Ronon.

He was looked at her gingerly, as though he expected her to break at any moment. "I came to see how your appointment with Doctor Heightmeier went. That was this afternoon, right?"

"Oh—yes, of course." Teyla picked up her pillow and hugged it to her chest. "We did not discuss what happened. She told me that I was too stressed to discuss it right now. She recommended that I draw or meditate to relax myself before our next session."

One of Ronon's eyebrows quirked upwards slightly, showing his heightened interest. "You draw?" He sounded intrigued.

She nodded modestly. "It has been many years since I did so. It used to help me handle stressful situations better. Sketching something I love or see helps me to put aside any fear or discomfort I may have." She nodded to the sketchbook and pencils. "When I first came to Atlantis and saw the many wonders here, I wanted to draw it. But I had nothing with which to do so until the _Daedalus_ arrived and we could contact Earth. So I requisitioned a drawing pad and pencils. Unfortunately, I have been too busy lately to draw, so all the pages are empty."

Ronon smiled. "Warrior, leader, artist—wow." There was a warm, admiring glint in his eyes, and Teyla looked away demurely and blushed again.

Unsure of what to say to Ronon's unusual show of praise, she quickly changed the subject. "Did Doctor Beckett send you here to check on me because he knew I'd put him off?" It was more of a joke than anything. For some strange reason, being close to Ronon after what happened to her was helping her relax and feel more like normal.

He shook his head. "No. I wanted to come check on you myself." Ronon paused, an awkward look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something; however, he changed his mind at the last moment and smiled stiltedly and whispered: "I guess I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. I—_we_ missed you."

Teyla smiled at his little stumble, and at his touching words. Ronon was not a talkative man; nor was he one to blithely show his emotions or speak his mind. What he'd just revealed to her in those two simple, stumbling sentences was more precious than anything anyone had ever said to her. "Ronon. . ."

He didn't allow her to say anything. As quickly and lithely as a cat, he kissed her full on her lips and then escaped out her door, leaving her sitting on her bed with wide eyes and a shaky hand over her smiling lips.

And best of all, for the first time since returning home she felt no pain.

_-To Be Continued-_


	4. Dark Secrets

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 4/17

**-Chapter 3-**

_Dark Secrets_

That night, Teyla had no trouble sleeping, and she was sure that the pain and sleeping pills that Dr. Beckett had given her had little to do with that fact.

She even hummed softly as she showered. She knew that she hadn't completely healed overnight, it would take considerably more than what time she'd slept for her physical, emotional, and mental scars to heal. However, she now felt more optimistic about that healing happening than she had before. Now she felt a little more confident in confiding in Dr. Heightmeier and submitting the report that Elizabeth had gently requested.

As Teyla vigorously rubbed her hair dry with a towel, she mused over the report. She knew that she had plenty of time to finish it, Dr. Weir had said as much, but maybe if she not only talked about what happened, but wrote it down, it would help her feel better even faster.

She paused, examining the still too-gaunt cheeks and haunted eyes that faced her in the mirror. _On the other hand, perhaps it is best not to push myself _too_ much_. She had an appointment with Kate early that afternoon, so she would just until after she'd finished with it. Then, if she was still feeling fairly upbeat, she'd at least make a start on the report.

That decided, she sat down at her dressing table and attacked the tangles in her hair. As she brushed, her mind restlessly returned to the night before, and Ronon's kiss. It had been a surprising but not unwelcome turn of events, and now she yearned to talk to him about it.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered how he felt on the matter. The kiss had been a spur-of-the-moment type of thing, probably brought on by the high emotion of the moment. After all, he had just admitted how much he'd missed her—so he said.

Teyla set her brush down on the table and stared critically at herself in the mirror. She'd never really had time in her life to consider marrying and having a family. She always had responsibilities with leading her people and, more recently, her obligations to the Atlantian team of which she was a member.

But now her priorities had shifted ever-so-slightly. During her incarceration with the Wraith, she'd had a lot of time to think about her life and where it was heading. Now the thought of becoming an old woman without someone by her side to love and be loved by, and children and grandchildren to watch grow and mature, hurt her. Now that Ronon had kissed her, those quiet thoughts had blossomed into a dream, and a secret hope.

She turned away from the mirror and stood. There was really no point in getting any of her hopes up—Ronon was a loner; besides, it would still be a while before she could regain any of the same emotional trust that had been yanked away from her by the Wraith. No point in stirring up dreams where they could never bear fruit.

Teyla quickly dressed and was just pulling on her jacket when the door chime rang. She pulled her hair out from under her collar with one hand while opening the door with the other.

"Oh, hello, Ronon." Was he able to read her thoughts now?

He offered an awkward smile and looked almost everywhere but at her. "Do you want to get some breakfast before your meeting with Doc Heightmeier?" He looked anxious.

Perhaps the kiss the night before had affected him as much as it had her. "Yes. Thank you."

They walked along the halls side-by-side, enveloped in tense silence. It was obvious that he had no clue what to say to her; in her defense, she was afraid that if she opened her mouth she'd say the wrong thing.

The silence between them stretched tighter and tighter. As her nerves did the same, a dull throb started behind her eyes, signaling a headache. She reached up a suddenly shaky hand and rubbed at her forehead. _I am just hungry, and nervous_, she thought, trying to reassure herself. _That is all_.

A high-pitched scream stopped her in her tracks. Ronon went on three steps ahead, realized she wasn't next to him, and then turned to look at her. "Hey. You okay?"

Now she was shaking. "You did not hear that?" _Am I going crazy_? No, there it was again, only this time it seemed even closer and loud enough to make her want to clap her hands over her ears.

"The sounds of the city? Sure." But the look on his face clearly said that he _knew_ that wasn't what she meant.

"No. Someone is screaming." She moved to the closest cross-hall and looked both ways. She saw no one, not even a random technician who might have accidentally done something to him or herself. "You are sure you did not hear that?"

Ronon grasped her arm and turned her around. "I didn't hear anything other than normal sounds." He peered closer at her. "You're pale. Forget breakfast, I'm taking you to the infirmary." Still gently holding her arm, he started to lead her in the direction of the closest transport.

"No." Teyla pulled her arm loose and turned around. "I must find out-- _Ah_!" She stopped speaking and fell to her knees as another explosion of pain struck her chest. Gasping for air, she bent in two, arms wrapped around herself and trying to smother the pain by making herself as small as possible. "No, no, _make it stop_!"

Ronon knelt next to her in a blur of movement, grasping her in his arms and tilting her head up so he could look her in the eyes. "_Teyla_!" he said sharply. "What's going on?" He looked worried, and helpless as he sat and held her tightly.

Teyla shrugged him off, hissing in desperate gulps of air between her clenched teeth. "Do not touch me!" she whimpered. She was afraid of what was happening to her, and she was afraid that she might accidentally hurt Ronon because of what the Wraith had done to her. "Just leave me alone for a minute, please, it will pass." She forced the words out, praying that it was so. But she couldn't have complete confidence in her words, because something felt different about this attack. It felt like something was eating away at her insides, and this time it wasn't stopping.

Ronon did not heed her warning. He lifted her into his arms easily as he stood, holding her tightly and protectively as he headed for the closest transport station. "I'm taking you to the infirmary." She opened her mouth to protest. "No, don't argue with me!" His voice cracked like a whip, and she unconsciously flinched and buried her face in his neck.

The last thing that she could remember was the feeling of Ronon's lips against her forehead, and his ragged voice pleading with her to hold on.

**-**_**Atlantis**_**-**

Teyla regained her faculties to realize she was in the infirmary. Beckett was standing at the foot of her bed, scribbling something into her file. Surrounding her on both sides were Elizabeth and her three teammates.

"What happened?" she questioned, voice hoarse. She swallowed and discovered that her throat was dry and scratchy, and she wondered if she'd screamed, though she had no recollection of doing so.

She gingerly pushed herself up in bed, propping her back against the pillows behind her. Thankfully, there was no pain when she moved, and she let out a little sigh of relief. However, that was short-lived when she saw the concern on her friends' faces. "What?" her gaze settled on Ronon, who looked like he wasn't sure whether to be mad or supportive. "_What has happened_?" she demanded. Whether she was trying to get the answer out of Ronon who whoever would speak first, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that something was horribly wrong with her, and whatever it was had Ronon wary around her.

Carson coughed gently, directing her full attention to him. "Lass, Ronon brought you here because of an attack you were sufferin' from. By the time he got you here, you were half out of your mind. You were yellin' somethin' about destroyin' Atlanits and all her people."

Teyla was horrified. Surely this was just a nightmare, and she'd wake up at any moment now! "Did I--?" The thought was too awful; it made her stomach churn just thinking about it.

"You didn't hurt anyone." Elizabeth was quick to assure her, and Teyla closed her eyes in relief. She opened them when Carson spoke again.

"Obviously you're mentally yourself again," Beckett told her. "However. . ."

Teyla lifted her right hand from where it rested on the bed. She stared at the bandaged appendage with detached fascination. "Why?" It was all she could force past the lump in her throat.

Carson looked grim. "My best guess is that, while the Wraith had you in captivity, they manipulated the part of your DNA that is like theirs. They did it to use against you, and all of us." He hesitated, glancing to the others as if for courage to deliver the rest of his horrible news. "You're turnin' into a Wraith. A feedin' maw has appeared in your hand, and I had to bandage it to make sure that you didn't accidentally latch on to someone."

Teyla reeled, physically withdrawing from her friends—and the news. She attempted to curl in on herself. "No!" she whimpered in denial. She looked helplessly to Ronon for the strength and support that she could always draw from him.

He met her gaze squarely for only a moment. Then he looked away, pain and quiet rage on his face and in his expressive green eyes. His posture shouted for escape; without another word or glance to her, he stiffly walked out.

Teyla buried her face in her hands, barely hearing Carson's order for everyone to leave. She peeked between her fingers and saw him draw the privacy curtain around her tiny cubicle, giving her respite from the worried glances that her other friends were sending her as they left.

Even with the privacy this offered her, she could not seem to release her emotion. She was numb inside, trying to protect her fragile emotions and mental stability from the truth.

She was turning into her most hated enemy. And, even worse than that, Ronon had left her.

Teyla lay on her side and curled into a fetal position, her gaze blank. _Ronon hates me. He knows my worst secret—the one thing I prayed he'd never know—and now he will never trust me again_.

Quietly, her heart broke.

_-To Be Continued-_


	5. Torn

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 5/17

**-Chapter 4-**

_Torn_

Ronon glanced uneasily over his shoulder, listening to the night nurse's shoes squeaking off towards the far end of the infirmary and the monitoring office. He waited until he heard her settle into her chair and the rustle of paper as she picked up her book before he dared creep further into the infirmary, over to Teyla's bedside.

The lights were dimmed to nightly levels; the dim glow cast garish shadows over Teyla's sickly features. In the few hours since he'd so rashly run from the infirmary, she seemed to have transformed into a completely different person. Her face was gaunt; dark hollows surrounded her eyes; and the figure beneath the blankets looked like the slightest pressure would break it like a glass doll. Her right hand, wrapped in gauze, lay as far away from her body as she could place it.

_What have they done to her_? The thought seeped into his mind like a poison, creeping through his veins and fueling the hate for the Wraith that he carried constantly with him. _Why did they do this? What did such a kind heart as hers ever do to deserve such a sick, demented torture like this_?

Beckett had briefly told him of Teyla's ancestry, and what the Wraith had done to them. This wasn't the first time an Athosian had been captured to be experimented on; in contrast, this time proved more successful than the last.

_I hate them_. He bared his teeth a little, hand absently gripping the handle of his weapon. He longed to run through the Stargate on a rampage that wouldn't stop until every last Wraith in the galaxy was dead, but he knew that wasn't possible. Right now he needed to focus on Teyla; once she was herself again he would focus on revenge.

Ronon stepped a little closer to the infirmary bed and brushed a strand of red-brown hair off her pale cheek. He hadn't been lying when he'd told her that he'd missed her while she was in Wraith captivity. The little time he'd spent back in Atlantis between trips out to search for Teyla was spent either in the gym beating the stuffing out of a punching bag or in his quarters pacing impatiently. If it had been just him searching for Teyla, he wouldn't have come back to Atlantis until he'd found her, one way or another. However, he'd had Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, and three other Gate teams with him, so the return trips home were necessary. But he chafed at the delay every time.

And now that Teyla was home, he couldn't resist kissing her. He'd never failed to notice that she was an attractive woman, but as he got to know her better he discovered facets of her personality that attracted him to her. She wasn't just pretty: she was energetic, passionate, fearless, a leader, and had an unbelievably caring heart.

He glanced over his shoulder, towards the door to the infirmary, then leaned forward and kissed Teyla's forehead. "Concentrate on getting better," he whispered. "I'll get the Wraith for you."

Ronon gently squeezed her fingertips, just above the edge of the bandages wrapping her hand, and then slipped out of the infirmary as quietly as he'd entered.

_**-Atlantis-**_

Teyla woke the next morning feeling cold and lonely. Carson was there checking her vitals, but the one face she had prayed, even in sleep, to see when she woke was not there.

Beckett must have read in her eyes the question that she didn't dare voice. "Elizabeth and Colonel Sheppard came by earlier, but ye weren't awake yet. Do ye feel like seeing them now?"

Teyla forced a smile onto her face and nodded. "Yes, please. Thank you."

Carson went off to radio the two, and Teyla clenched her hands into fists and tried not to cry. She had been so in hopes that Ronon's reaction the day before had just been his usual one. Now that he'd had time to think about the situation, she'd been so sure that he'd come to see her first thing in the morning back to his usual self.

She closed her eyes and breathed calmly. _It is only morning_, she told herself. _He will come to see me later in the day, after everyone else has come through_.

When Elizabeth and John came to see her, they had Rodney with them. For the most part McKay rambled on about normal things, which Teyla appreciated. It was nice that he was trying to keep her upbeat by helping her feel like they weren't seeing her any differently, and keeping her assured that it wouldn't be long until things _were_ normal again.

Both John and Elizabeth assured her that all of Atlantis's vast resources were being used to try to find a way to find a way to undo what the Wraith had done to her. They were all confident that it was only a matter of time before everything would be back to normal and Teyla could get on with her life.

If only she could. Unfortunately, with Ronon obviously mad and mistrustful of her, her life would never be the same again. She oddly felt like she'd just lost her best friend, and wondered how she could ever function as a team member again while working that close to Ronon.

After that thought, she couldn't keep the smile pasted on her face. It wasn't long after they noticed how depressed she was that Colonel Sheppard, Elizabeth, and Rodney left her alone with her thoughts.

Beckett came wandering in as they left, a concerned expression on his face. "Why, lass! I thought them comin' in would cheer ye up."

Teyla shook her head softly. "Right now, Carson, there are only two things that would cheer me up. And, unfortunately, it looks like neither of them is going to happen any time soon."

The kindly Scot tipped his head the side and sighed. "Poor dear," he said, and patted her arm. "I'm workin' as fast as I can to come up with a way to change this, but. . ."

"I know. I appreciate it. But there is not much you can do when the Wraith have used my DNA to turn me into one of _them_." She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on the arm she draped over them. "Thank you, Carson."

Beckett nodded morosely and left her alone, muttering quietly to himself the whole while. That left Teyla alone again with her dark thoughts, the foremost of which was that before long another transformation would strike. Then she would become even more like _them_.

A plan began to formulate in her mind. Perhaps it wouldn't solve all of her problems, but at least she would be out of Ronon's way—and his mind, and the Atlantians wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. . .

Teyla leaned back, closed her eyes, and prepared to perfect her plan. The longer she stayed, the more she would be a threat to those she loved, including Ronon. So, therefore, she would leave Atlantis.

Perhaps for forever.

_-To Be Continued-_


	6. Escape

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 6/17

**-Chapter 5-**

_Escape_

"And where do ye think you're goin'?"

Teyla reached for her boots and tugged them on. "I am leaving Atlantis." She delivered the news flatly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Beckett looked surprised, then determined. "Oh, no you're not. Ye can't leave! I'm workin' on a cure even as we speak, and--"

Teyla finished lacing up her boots and stood up. "Carson, I thank you for all that you have done for me, and the effort you are putting forth to save me. But I believe there is nothing you can do to reverse this." She sucked in a sharp breath as the pain began to build up inside her again. "I am going to start losing control of myself soon, and I do not want to be here when that happens. I am transforming into a Wraith. They will eventually be able to track me here, and I will not be able to keep them away. Out there, I might have a chance of evading them and keeping them away from the city." Her head dipped a little. "I do not want to hurt anyone I love, Carson. It is why I am leaving."

"And what if we do find the cure? You will not be here to receive it!" He wasn't going to let her go without a fight.

Teyla grit her teeth against the growing pain in her chest, knowing that she needed to escape the city before it reached its peak and she changed again. "You will be able to find me, I promise. Just please, you have to let me go." Her hands clenched into fists. _Please, please, I need to hurry!_

Carson reached for her arm with one hand and his radio with the other. "I'm sorry, lass, but I can't allow that! You need to stay here, under medical supervision. . ."

"Let me go!" Teyla yanked her arm out of Carson's reach, her voice a low growl. Now fear was beginning to build with the pain, and she felt like crying. "Please, I have to go now before I hurt someone!"

Beckett opened his mouth, but Teyla didn't let him finish. She pushed past him and headed out of the infirmary, her hands over her ears to block out the infernal screaming in her mind. _Get out get out get out _get out! She wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or the voices in her head.

She could feel the pain in her chest intensifying as it moved up to spread through her mind. A dull throb beat behind her eyes in time with her heart as she stumbled through the halls towards the Gateroom. _I have to get away now! I have to be strong for a little while longer, until I can get through the Stargate--_ She stumbled into a transporter, reaching for the locator for the Gateroom out of habit more than concentration. The screaming in her mind was almost deafening, and the pain inside her was hazing out the real world.

Everyone gasped in surprise when she staggered into the control room, one hand clutching the fabric of her jacket over her chest and the other knotted into a fist at her side. "Dial the Stargate!" she managed to pant out past the pain.

The technician manning the DHD was so startled that he didn't think to dispute her. "Where to?" he asked in confusion.

"Somewhere nice and unpopulated!" she cried. "I do not care, just _dial_!"

Elizabeth came into the control room from her office to investigate the commotion. She looked surprised to see Teyla standing there fully dressed, ready to go off-world. "Carson's released you?"

Teyla shook her head, gulping in as much air as she could. She felt like she was drowning. "Please, Elizabeth, you have to let me go off-world! If I remain I am just going to hurt someone!" She grabbed onto the nearest consol to keep from collapsing to her knees. "I am getting ready to go through another transformation; I can feel it happening! Please, dial the Stargate and _let me go_!"

"Dial it," Teyla heard Elizabeth order the technician. The petite diplomat didn't take her eyes off the anguished Athosian.

"Ma'am?" Chuck looked startled.

"Dial the Stargate to an uninhabited planet, now." It was an order, and one that the confused technician reluctantly but immediately followed.

Teyla gasped out a thank-you and headed for the stairs, not seeing Elizabeth reach for her radio headset and whisper a terse order into it. She half-crawled down the stairs, hearing the Gate dialing past the cacophony in her head. _Only three more chevrons—I can do this!_

She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled toward the portal, knowing that safety for herself and vicariously Atlantis lay on the other side. She forced herself closer and closer, but made sure she stayed well out of the way of the unstable vortex when it would gush outwards.

Teyla didn't hear him approaching from behind her because of the screaming in her head. She didn't know Ronon was behind her until two strong arms encircled her waist and pulled her backwards and away from the Stargate.

"No!" She lashed out, trying to free herself. "You have to let me go!"

"Teyla, stop fighting!" The voice in her ear was husky with emotion. "Please, it's going to be okay!"

"No, no, no!" Teyla continued to struggle. "Ronon, let me go! I have to go. I do not want to hurt you." She didn't care if Ronon hated her or not, she still cared greatly about him and didn't want to accidentally hurt him.

The Stargate stopped dialing behind her, and with that action all her hope fled. She collapsed to her knees, dragging Ronon down with her. As the pain of a new transformation exploded in her chest, she felt Ronon's arms wrap around her shoulders as he hugged her to him. "Ronon. . ." Her protest died on her lips as a ragged sob escaped instead. _Please do not let me go. . ._

"Stop." Ronon held up a hand to the medical and security teams approaching. He kept the other arm around Teyla, who clung sobbing to him as her entire body shuddered with the force of the pain of another transformation.

Everyone stood in tense silence around the two people sitting on the Gateroom floor, one shaking with the agony of transformation, the other with the agony of having to watch it happen and the inability to do something to stop it.

Finally Teyla raised her head from Ronon's chest and looked up at him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and her body still hurt from the torture it received from the newest transformation. She was almost afraid to look at him, scared of what she might—or might not—see on his face.

Anguish flickered in his eyes when he looked down at her. Then she watched extreme hatred once more build up behind the fragile cover of his anguish, and his jaw twitched. For a moment his arms tightened around her; then they loosened as if in preparation to push her away.

Misinterpreting Ronon's expression and actions, Teyla flinched away from him and turned into the waiting arms of the medical team. A collective, involuntary gasp rippled through the crowd when they saw her. Defeated and in emotional anguish, she allowed Carson to lead her back off toward the infirmary.

As they walked through the doors, Teyla turned to her friend and doctor and whispered: "How bad was it this time? Please, tell me." She had to know why Ronon looked at her like that, how horrible it had been. Now that the pain and the voices had faded away and she could think clearly again, she had to see for herself what had just happened to her.

Carson swallowed and disappeared into his office, then came out a moment later with a hand-held mirror that he handed to her. "Here, lass."

Teyla swallowed hard, attempting to draw as much courage as she could, and then looked at the reflective surface.

"_Ancestors!_" The mirror dropped out of her numb fingers, the glass shattering when it hit the floor. Even though the mirror was no longer before her, she could still clearly see the image that had been reflected back to her.

On either cheekbone a little slit had appeared in her skin, just like those of a Wraith. Worse even than that, two grey-green eyes stared maliciously back at her with black slits for pupils.

Teyla closed her Wraith-like eyes and shook her head. _No wonder Ronon hates me. Now every time he looks at me he will be reminded of _them.

Now her life would never be normal again.

_-To Be Continued-_


	7. Visions

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warning, pairings, etc.

Part 7/17

**-Chapter 6-**

_Visions_

"_Teyla!_"

Ronon snapped awake abruptly, reaching out for Teyla to pull her away from the danger.

She wasn't there. _No!_

Reality seeped through his dream, and he recognized his surroundings as his quarters. It was a welcome difference from the planet he'd just been on in his nightmare.

He rocked into a sitting position in bed, cradling his aching head in his hands. It had been a long time since he'd had a nightmare that bad; not since right after being released from his slavery as a Runner. Once he'd come to Atlantis (and, if he wanted to be totally honest, met Teyla Emmagan) the nightmares had faded. He'd thought they were gone.

But this one. . . He wasn't sure if he could really call it a dream; it was definitely a nightmare, but it was a memory rather than a fabrication of his mind.

_It was my fault she was taken._ Ronon ran his hands down his face. It was true. He was supposed to have been on watch, paying attention to his surroundings. But he hadn't been, and because of it Teyla was taken by the Wraith.

And now? Now she was turning into one of them. She probably hated him for it.

**Flashback**

Peace. It was something that he hadn't felt off-world for a long time, and it was a nice change of pace. The only sounds around him were the hoots and howls of night animals in the woods.

They'd spread their sleeping bags under the clear night sky, not bothering to drag out the tents because it was such a nice night. There was a nice cool breeze to keep them from getting too warm; and there wasn't a sign of a storm cloud in the sky. The nearest village was a good six mile hike across the gently rolling hills, so whoever was on watch would have plenty of warning of an attack beforehand.

Ronon shifted slightly away from the fire, wishing the coffee would hurry and warm up. Usually he didn't mind having the second watch, but for some reason tonight he felt lethargic. The caffeine would be welcome.

He didn't let his guard down despite how sleepy he was. He kept his eyes and ears tuned to his surroundings, and his hand close to his weapon at all times. They had been on this planet for a couple of days now with no signs of trouble, but it still didn't hurt to be too careful.

Ronon froze when he heard rustling; then relaxed again when he noticed Sheppard shifting around in his sleeping bag. He was probably trying to get comfortable after going to bed, since he had first watch.

That sound had no sooner settled than another started. This one was accompanied by a low voice. "Ronon?"

He had felt her approaching more than heard her; either way, he still knew she was there. He felt her more keenly as of recent; he just _knew_ she was there. "Something wrong, Teyla?" He didn't turn from the fire, afraid that his eyes would give him away. _If only I could tell her the truth._

Teyla dropped down next to him on the log they used as a bench. She had slipped her boots on but hadn't bothered with her jacket, the fire in combination with the climate kept her plenty warm enough. Her skin glowed as if lit from inside; the firelight played in her dark eyes and painted a halo around her hair. "Nothing is wrong. I just could not sleep, so I thought I would get up and keep you company on watch."

"Thanks. Sometimes watch duty does get a little tedious." Ronon motioned towards the fire. "Want some coffee?" he asked her.

Teyla laughed softly. "I cannot sleep already, so why not?" She took the cup he handed her and gingerly blew on the hot black liquid. "So, is it pretty quiet out here tonight?"

Ronon shrugged. "The usual night noises. Birds, animals, the wind in the trees, McKay snoring--"

Teyla nearly spit her coffee out as she laughed. One hand covered her mouth to keep from waking Sheppard, who was a fairly light sleeper. She gulped down her drink and glared at him. "Thank you, Ronon."

He just grinned and nudged her shoulder with his. "We just going to let McKay sleep through his watch and let him take the last one?"

She looked down into her cup, still smiling. "Probably. After all, if he does not get a good night's rest, he always wakes up very--"

"Critical?" Ronon offered.

"More so than normal," Teyla agreed with a nod. "I will just take over third watch tonight."

Now Ronon felt entirely awake, and that sharpened his senses. This was how he was the first to hear the buzzing drone off in the distance, towards the direction of the Stargate. He held up one hand, and Teyla went still. Her coffee cup, frozen halfway to her mouth, shuddered only the slightest bit as her hand shook.

"Dart?" He hissed the question out of the side of his mouth.

Teyla, face pale, nodded. "I can sense them."

Ronon immediately leaped to his feet. "You wake Sheppard. I'll get McKay up."

A single curt word from Teyla brought John immediately to attention. Ronon had to bodily drag McKay from his sleeping bag; the scientist sputtered and swore until Dex got through to him the urgency of the situation.

Then he went into panic mode as he grabbed his P-90, halfway ready to fight.

John and Teyla had already doused the fire and were standing nervously in the center of the clearing, weapons pointed upwards towards the sky. The drone of the Dart was coming ever-closer to them; Ronon could almost feel their approach inside him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as various flashbacks of the time he was a Runner fueled his hate for the Wraith.

Ronon and McKay joined Sheppard and Teyla next to the remains of their fire. They all looked up and around for any sign of the approaching Wraith ship (and by the sound of it, there was only one), but for a long, tense moment no one saw anything.

Finally Teyla pointed. "There!"

The rose-colored moon was half-blotted out by a sleek black craft, which gracefully swooped in a half-circle and then headed straight for the four teammates.

Ronon tensely waited for Sheppard to issue orders, aching to fire upon the ship but knowing that he had to follow his team leader's orders. "What do we do?" he growled softly to Sheppard. It didn't make sense; only one Dart coming through the Stargate to cull? Usually there were at least three.

In the strong light from the moon, Sheppard's face looked uncertain and concerned. Finally he made a split-second decision and snapped his order. "Everybody scatter to the treeline. Stay out of sight of the Darts, and keep in radio contact."

No one argued, and everyone immediately leaped into action. They scattered to the four winds, pausing just inside the treeline to watch their mysterious midnight visitor.

It soon became alarmingly clear that the Dart was there for a reason. It broke off its current course and followed one figure; whether it was by design or a fluke of fate, Ronon didn't know. All he could see was the ship following Teyla's slight form into her fragile cover; he was blind to everything except the danger she was in.

"Teyla!" He shouted the warning, keeping to the trees as he ran toward her. He prayed he would get there in time; she was frozen in place, her head tilted up towards the sky. There was a blank expression on her face as she watched the Dart grow closer and closer; Ronon pushed himself to runner harder and faster than he'd ever run before. He was desperate to reach her before it was too late, before the Dart swept her up and she was lost to him forever.

Because he had never had the guts to tell her the truth about how he felt about her.

"Teyla, _run_!" He was almost there, he was so close. Just a few more yards that might as well be miles, for he knew that he'd never make it. But if he could just snap her out of the stupor she was in, maybe there would be hope to save her. . .

One moment she was there. The next she was gone.

He was too late.

**End Flashback**

Ronon pressed his hands against his throbbing head and bit back the bitter taste at the back of his throat. _They wanted her. It was like they knew; like they got into her mind to keep her there and distracted so they could take her._

The rage inside him built higher, burned hotter; he longed to go through the Stargate and release a rampage on the Pegasus galaxy that would not stop until every last Wraith was dead.

_They took her, they experimented on her, they demeaned her, and they tried to break her._ He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to block out the images of what she must have suffered through. _We found her, but those psychos have still managed to keep drawing her away from us._

His hands knotted into fists, and he bared his teeth in hate. _They're going to pay. Somehow, if it takes me to my last dying breath to do it, I am going to make them pay for what they have done to the woman I love._

_-To Be Continued-_


	8. Heartbreak

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 8/17

**-Chapter 7-**

_Heartbreak_

She was almost afraid to move or think. If she opened her eyes, what would she see? The cell of a Wraith ship? A cell in Atlantis? The infirmary? Or the safe four walls of her bedroom?

Teyla didn't know what to do anymore. She was turning into a Wraith, and the one man that she'd ever felt _that_ way towards hated her. _Then how much worse could life get?_

She seized that thought and clung to it, hoping to see something at least reassuringly familiar when she opened her eyes. Prepared for the worst, she was only slightly disappointed to see the infirmary instead of her bedroom. If had been her quarters, she'd have known that this whole thing was just a horrible nightmare.

_I feel so tired and disjointed._ She stared at her gauze-wrapped hand. _Traitor._ She allowed it to drop onto the bed next to her, her elbow bent so it was as far away from her body as she could get it. _I have got to convince them to let me go, or lock me up. Either one, it does not matter. Soon I will start feeling like one of _them_, and then I do not know if I will be able to stop myself from doing something that I will regret very much later._ Fear struck her heart. _What if I am like this forever?_

The thought speared her like an arrow. _Why? Why? Why?_ The words hammered at her; she rolled over onto her side and pressed her face into her pillow. _What is wrong with me? It is better that it is me rather than someone else that I love._

"Teyla?" The voice was hoarse, concerned; the accompanying hand that rolled her over had the touch of desperation. "Teyla, look at me!"

_Ronon._ His name stuck in her throat. Was she dreaming again? Perhaps she was still stuck on the Hive ship, and this was all a way to torture her into giving out information. That meant--

Teyla instinctively flinched away from Ronon. If this was real, he hated her. If it was a fabrication by the Wraith, she didn't want him near her anyway. "Go away." She rolled over, her back to him, and drew into herself until she was as tiny as she could get.

She heard Ronon sigh heavily; she felt his presence move away from her and towards the door. A single tear formed at the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek, a lone tear to represent the river of heartache eating away at her insides.

Ronon paused at the door, and she could feel his eyes on her. "Teyla, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to--" An anguished noise escaped him, and then his carefully measured footsteps rapidly moved away from the infirmary.

She clenched her eyes shut. _Help me._ She didn't know which hurt worse, the physical pain of the transformation or the emotional pain those soft words caused. _Ronon, I am sorry--_

Teyla lifted her head from her pillow and looked to the doorway, even though she knew that Ronon was gone. _I must find him. I must tell him_--

The thought was left unfinished as she scrambled out of bed. She was still dressed in her pajamas; she didn't care. Barefooted, her heart pounding, face still wet with tears, she slipped past Carson's office and the thankfully empty nurse's desk before trying to decide where Ronon would go. The truth was, she had no clue where to start looking for him.

_So do not think._ Teyla drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and listened to her heart.

_**-Atlantis-**_

_She hates me. I was right._ His heart hurt at that thought. Ronon had been hoping, praying, that she didn't hate him. But the moment she flinched away from his touch, he knew.

Teyla did blame him for everything that had happened to her.

He tried to apologize, but he knew that nothing he could say would change what was happening to her. Nothing would make up for what had happened, for his being too late to save her from the Dart.

_I've failed her._ He looked up, realizing that his aimless wandering of the city had brought him to the gym. So many good memories in this room, all of them with Teyla–

Ronon backed up against the wall and slid down it, staring blankly at the Bantos rods neatly leaned against the wall in order from the tallest pair to the shortest. _Why is it that it is _always_ the person I love that suffers the most? For once, why couldn't it have been me instead of her?_ He rested his arms over his knees and hung his head. _Teyla, please forgive me._

"Ronon?"

He jerked his head up and looked towards the door. He wondered if Teyla was a figment of his imagination; but this disillusion only lasted for a moment.

He sprang to his feet with the ease of good reflexes and practice. "Teyla. What--?"

Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself as though shielding herself from the cold. "I know you hate me, Ronon, but I have something to say and I am going to say it. I am sorry for never telling you about myself before, about what is inside me, but I was so afraid that this would happen. That you would hate me." Her head dipped, and another two tears tracked down her face. "I was right." She turned to leave, her shoulders hunched. Everything about her posture and expression shouted hurt and defeat.

"Teyla!" He caught her arm and spun her around to face him, looking down into her Wraith eyes with as gentle expression as he could manage past his shock and pain. "Do you honestly believe that I hate you?"

Teyla looked away and nodded miserably. "How could you not?" She pulled her arm free from his grasp, but didn't try to move any farther away from him.

He took this as a good sign. "No! I could never hate you. I thought all this time that _you_ hated _me_!"

Teyla looked up at him, confused. "Why would you think that?"

Now Ronon felt uncomfortable. "It was my fault that you got taken by the Wraith. Everything I touch, everyone I let myself love – they always get taken away. I thought you blamed me for what happened to you – I blame myself. If I'd been paying more attention, maybe I could have--" He stopped and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "You kept flinching away from me every time I tried to talk to you, or get close to you. I honestly thought that you were trying to push me away because you despised me." That admission cost him everything; he had laid bare all his emotions in front of her. She could accept them or slap him down; his heart pounded in anticipation and dread.

A small smile appeared on her lips as more tears coursed down her cheeks. "Ronon, I never knew – I had hoped, but--" She stopped and looked up at him, sorrow and panic in her eyes. "You have to let me go."

Ronon's heart stopped. "What?" _What does she mean?_

Teyla shook her head and turned away. "I cannot – _we_ cannot do this right now, Ronon. I am turning into a Wraith. If you get too close to me, I am afraid that you will be the first person I go after when I can no longer control myself." She drew in a shuddering breath. "That is why you must let go. I want you to protect yourself from me."

She walked away.

Ronon leaned back against the doorway and closed his eyes. _That's the problem, Teyla. I _can't

_-To Be Continued-_


	9. Impatience

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 9/17

**-Chapter 8-**

_Impatience_

Teyla had been moved to a cell in Atlantis's brig upon her own insistence. She had also made sure that the shield around the cell was on full; Marine guards were posted at the door into the room; and Beckett was on call just in case.

Ronon sat cross-legged on the floor a couple of feet away from the cell. A lot of the Atlantians (including him) had tried to make the place as much as home as they could, considering the circumstances. Around and beside him, outside the cell, sat quite a few of her belongings. A few lit candles; a couple of rugs; and a small jar of incense helped that illusion just a little.

Teyla sat in the center of her cell on the floor, eyes closed in concentration. She was attempting to meditate to lessen the constant screaming in her mind and to hopefully delay the next transformation. Two small lines of concentration between her eyes showed clearly how hard she was trying to concentrate and keep herself in that state of meditation.

Ronon just silently sat and watched her. No matter how she looked on the outside, to him she was still Teyla Emmagan. Her eyes were still that smoky grey-green with slit pupils; her small hands were tipped by long claws. After the most recent transformation, her hair had turned to the silver of a hair had turned to the silver of a Wraith Hive Queen and her skin had begun to take on the slightest tinge of green. Her lips, slightly parted, revealed half-formed fangs. But her concern for him and her fellow Atlantians was definitely human, as were her smile and what she said. Teyla was still in there, and he knew that she was fighting back the only way she knew how.

He didn't turn when the door behind him opened, and Sheppard came in. For a moment the two men stayed silent; one sitting and the other standing, both watching Teyla.

Finally the colonel broke the silence. "How does she seem to be doing?" He kept his voice low as to not disturb Teyla.

Ronon shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. She hasn't moved in a while. I hope that means that she reached whatever meditation level she wanted."

Sheppard nodded slightly. "How much longer until her next transformation?"

"One hour, six minutes, thirty-two seconds." Ronon didn't need a watch; he'd been keeping track of every agonizing second in his mind. "Hopefully this time. . ." He trailed off, unable to finish. Could they dare hope?

"She's tough. If anyone can get through this, it's her." Sheppard almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "I just came from the infirmary to check up on Beckett. He said he'd be coming this way soon, so he'd be here if -- To check on Teyla."

Ronon nodded. "Good." He swallowed hard and tried to calm his pounding heart. "I wonder – d'you think I could--?"

"No." That one word cut him straight through.

"I'm not good at sitting and waiting. I need to be doing something." _Anything, other than sit here and watch_ _her going through so much pain and not able to do anything about it. Out there I can _do something!

Sheppard didn't blink. "She needs you here with her, not out getting yourself killed trying to exact revenge in a fight you can't win."

He flinched, ever-so-slightly. "I can't just watch, Sheppard." _You're telling me you don't feel the same?_ He angrily bit back the last.

A muscle in the colonel's jaw twitched. "Teyla is the little sister I never had. She's my friend and my teammate. You think this is easy on me?" He ran a hand down his face. "Think about her, Ronon. She needs us right now, all of us. After all she's been through--"

Ronon very carefully avoided looking at the long, jagged scars on Teyla's arms. "I'm sorry." He released the words with a heavy sigh, not sure if he was talking to his teammate or Teyla. "I just – can't lose her too."

Sheppard didn't look too surprised at this slight slip. "You won't. None of us will. We'll lick this, somehow, just like we lick everything else that tries to tear us down. We never stop fighting, and we never leave our people behind."

_If only we'd gotten there sooner._ The guilty phrase rose up from the dark, shame-ridden hole in his heart and repeated over and over in his mind. _Maybe if we'd been quicker, she would have been okay._ Ronon clenched his eyes shut against the images flashing through his mind; torturous ones of the agony Teyla must have gone through when the Wraith were tormenting and experimenting on her. He had been putty in those monsters' hands once; it was not hard for his mind to conjure up those disturbing memories and place Teyla in the midst of them. _What she must have gone through – why couldn't I have been faster? _How_ could I have not known where she was?_

The door opened and Beckett strode in, his gaze immediately going to Teyla. "How's the lass?"

"Meditating." Ronon stated the obviously in a hoarse voice. _Please work._ The words beat through his mind like a mantra.

The Scot nodded. "Aye, I can see that. Has she said anything recently?"

"No." Both Sheppard and Ronon spoke at the same time. Dex nervously ran a hand over the flame of the closest candle, not even flinching as the heat rippled across his palm.

The three men kept silent vigil, watching Teyla. Beckett and Sheppard kept glancing at their watches; Ronon kept ticking down the seconds as time dwindled slowly by. While waiting was hard, wondering what would happen to Teyla during this transformation was even worse.

The tension stretched. No one moved. Only the sounds of four people breathing broke the silence.

Then it was broken, so suddenly the three men nearly jumped out of their skins. The time was up.

Teyla threw back her head, her hands curling into fists of agony. Her mouth opened, and a piercing, inhuman scream wrenched free from her throat and reverberated straight into Ronon's heart. Her entire body shuddered and jerked; she fell to the floor writhing in agony.

_No!_ Ronon barely smothered the urge to burst into the cell and hold her. It killed him to restrain himself. _Teyla!_ He wasn't sure if he yelled it out loud, or just in his mind. _It didn't work. It didn't work. Why why _why_ didn't it work?_ was all he could think.

Beckett was already standing next to the cell door, waiting for the transformation to stop so he could go in and check on her.

As suddenly as it had started, her seizure stopped. For a moment Teyla lay motionless on the ground, shaking, her hair covering her face. Then one clawed hand braced against the floor, and she pushed herself upright.

Ronon got a good look at her, and his heart stopped.

_-To Be Continued-_


	10. Doppelganger

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 10/17

**-Chapter 9-**

_Doppelganger_

"_Let me go_!" Teyla howled again.

Ronon clenched his teeth as her heel came into sharp contact with his shin. "Teyla, stop it! We're trying to help you!"

She squirmed and bucked in his arms, trying to twist free from his grasp. Freedom was only a few feet away from her, and she obviously wanted it very badly. "They need me!"

He paused at this, taking a moment to wonder who she could possibly mean. Teyla almost slipped free at his distraction, but Ronon caught her around the waist again and got his arms around her. He held her tightly but not hard enough to hurt her, trying to keep her claws and teeth away from him. "Stop it, Teyla!"

Carson jumped forward and quickly injected Teyla with a syringe full of sedative. For almost a full minute the Wraith-like Athosian continued to struggle, but soon gave up when the injection kicked in.

When at last she sagged against him, unconscious, he picked her up and carried her over the cot at the far end of the cell. He laid her down then slipped out with Beckett, watching glumly as the door closed and locked and the shield was once more brought online.

"I wonder what she meant?" Sheppard was staring at Teyla, too. "'They need me'?"

Beckett gingerly packed away the devices he used and prepared to leave. "She'll be out for a while. It's late; I suggest you both get some sleep and come back later. I'll radio ye if something happens."

"But--" Ronon began to protest.

John shook his head. "Doc's right. Who knows, maybe the answers we're looking for will come to us in our sleep." He didn't look very hopeful even as he said.

Dex wisely kept his mouth closed and stalked out of the room. While on his way to his quarters, those same three words turned over and over in his mind. _"They need me." Who are _they_? The Wraith?_ He entered his quarters and kicked off his boots before flopping down on his bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he resumed his train of thought. _She's transforming into one of them, so why not? They probably want her back so they can monitor her transformation and celebrate the murder of another human._

Ronon reached for his radio headset, but changed his mind about taking it off. The truth was, he wanted to be the first to know if something went wrong with Teyla overnight. He wished he could be there with her, but knew that Beckett was right. None of them would be any help to her if they collapsed from exhaustion.

But how could he sleep? Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her when she'd looked up at him right after her transformation. He couldn't help but think that maybe this was the last one, because now she looked every inch a Wraith Hive Queen. And the rage and hate in her eyes when she'd looked at him. . .

_It's not her._ He just had to keep telling himself that. Maybe if he said those words enough times, he'd start believing them. _And maybe I'll wake up tomorrow morning and find out that all this has been some sort of nightmare. Right._ Ronon sighed and put a hand over his tired eyes.

He slept.

**-Atlantis-**

_The inky blackness pressed against him on all sides like walls. He kept on hand on his weapon while holding the other out before him, whether to reach for something or to keep from slamming face-first into a wall he did not know. He just kept pressing through the darkness, reaching, listening, straining to see even the littlest point of light._

_He'd always hated the darkness, and being a Runner didn't help. Evil things lurked in the darkness, waiting to pounce on those that dared enter their domain. Darkness personified the Wraith, and the Wraith personified the darkness._

_His outstretched hand struck a wall; gently at first, he applied pressure. Then harder and harder he pressed, but it wouldn't budge. There would be no escaping the darkness that way._

Follow the wall with your hand.

_He turned. "Hello!" he shouted. "Is someone there?"_

_Only the echo of his own voice responded to him. Perhaps he'd been trapped here for a little too long, because now he was hearing someone else saying his own thoughts._

_He shook his head and returned his hand to the wall. He trailed it along the smooth cold surface as he walked, eyes probing the black for any sign of what he was supposed to be looking for. He knew he was supposed to be looking for something, but for some reason he couldn't remember what it was._

_His hand struck another wall, only a few feet away from where he'd hit the first. _What?_ Panic seized his throat; he swallowed it back. Now was not the time to let his claustrophobia control him, the mission he was on was too important. He couldn't let weakness in._

_He continued to walk, following this wall back in the direction he'd come. He was so tired; it almost felt like he'd been walking forever though he knew that wasn't possible._

"_They need me."_

_He stopped again – he knew that voice. "Teyla?" Was she in here, too?_

"_I have to go, Ronon." Something slid past him on his left; he made a grab for it – for her. He missed._

"_Teyla!" His gut twisted. "Please, don't leave!"_

_Now he could hear footsteps moving farther and farther away. He abandoned his wall, the only tangible thing he had in this cloying darkness, and followed them. That had to be Teyla. Whether she led him to a way out or not, he had to follow her. He had to find her, had to keep her from leaving. He needed her._

_Her voice floated to him on another hollow echo. "I have to. You know it is true." She hissed softly, and he felt her hot breath against the back of his neck._

_He jumped and spun; a hand impacted his chest and slammed him backwards into yet another wall that he was sure shouldn't be there. "Tey–" He gasped, the breath knocked out of him by the impact._

"_You know it is true!" she screamed again. The fingers of her left hand dug into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. He still couldn't see her, it was so dark. . ._

"_You will let me go." This time it was a command._

"_I can't."_

_Her right hand slammed against his chest._

"Ronon!"

He jolted awake, tumbling off his bed in the process. Ronon's left shoulder took the brunt of the impact as he hit and rolled, coming to a stop a few feet away. "What the--?" His skin felt like it was on fire; yet he was shaking because inside he felt so cold.

"Ronon, answer your radio!"

_Beckett._ Fully awake now, he reached up and clicked his headset. "I'm here. Sorry." His voice was hoarse – he must have been screaming. Good thing the walls were soundproof.

If the doctor noticed, he didn't call Dex on it. "Ye need to get to the brig. Teyla's askin' for ye."

_Teyla?_ Ronon scrambled to his feet, yanking off his sweat-soaked shirt with one hand as he reached for a dry one with his other. "I'll be there in a minute!"

His heart, still pumping with adrenaline from his dream, refused to slow. Now it was throbbing with hope: hope that because she was asking for him, she was lucid now. Maybe all it was earlier was aftereffects from the transformation.

He quickly pulled on his boots and laced them up, then tugged on his shirt as he left his quarters. The halls were abandoned because of the late hour, so he was not interrupted as he ran down the hall to the transporter. From there, he beat it to the brig in record time.

The two Marines standing guard outside nodded at him as he approached. The one on the left opened the door for him, and Ronon slipped into the room. He only had eyes for Teyla.

She sat curled up in the corner of the cell, her knees pulled up to her chest. She had the blanket off the cot pulled around her shoulders and over her head; it cast shadows across her Wraith features. As Ronon moved across the room to kneel next to her, on the other side of the bars, she peered at him from beneath her veil with surprisingly emotional grey-green eyes.

"Ronon." Her voice was low and gravelly; like a Wraith that hadn't fed in a while. "I am glad you came."

"Nothing could have kept me away." It was true: even the nightmare he'd just had couldn't prevent him from rushing to her side when she called for him.

She smiled but was careful not to part her lips. "Thank you." She dipped her head until her chin was resting on her raised knee, her eyes studying him from the shadows. Her gaze was not malicious; on the contrary, she seemed sad. "I apologize for how I acted earlier. I was – not myself."

Ronon's heart clenched. "It's not your fault. There's no need for apologies."

Teyla smiled again, barely. "Perhaps." She looked away, as if gathering her thoughts. When she looked back at him, she looked scared. "The Queen of the Hive I was on – she died while I was there. The Wraith under her command killed her, because they hated how she controlled them." She dipped her head and closed her eyes. "They wanted a new Queen, but did not want to wait for a new one to incubate. Nor did they want to capture one from a rival Hive. That is why they are turning me into one. It was an opportunity they could not pass up."

Ronon felt sick. "_What_?!"

"That is not all." Her voice turned grave. "They will come for me, eventually. I do not know how I know this, but as I continue to transform a link will grow in my mind between them and myself. And then they will be able to come find me. They will destroy Atlantis."

It was all so surreal, Ronon could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"There is only one choice left, Ronon." She leaned forward a little, trying to convey how desperate she felt. "You have to let me go and become the Queen of the Hive. Perhaps when I arrive I can do something to destroy them and myself before we do any damage to the Pegasus galaxy, or – as I am afraid will happen – before I cannot control myself any more and lead an attack upon Atlantis." She turned her face away from his hurt gaze, tears trailing from her eyes like drops of liquid crystal. "Please, Ronon. Just let me do this one last thing for Atlantis. F-For you."

"No." He refused to let her go; to die like that. Not when there was still a chance, as slim as it was, that they could find a way to help her and save her. "There's another way. There has to be." It couldn't just _end_ that way. _I love you, don't you understand?_ The words stuck in his throat.

Teyla turned so her back was to him, still curled up in her blanket. "No, Ronon. I am the one that is sorry. For, after the next transformation, I will not be able to hide nor control myself any longer. And then, I truly will be your enemy."

"That's not true," Ronon said, but he knew that it was. How could it possibly be any different?

Teyla curled in even tighter on herself. "There are two people inside me, Ronon," she whispered in anguish. "And I am afraid that the other is going to win and destroy us all."

_-To Be Continued-_


	11. Torture

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warning, pairings, etc.

Part 11/17

**-Chapter 10-**

_Torture_

Beckett hustled through the doors, his wide eyes moving between Teyla's huddled form and Ronon's look of shell-shocked agony. "What's goin' on?" he gasped.

Teyla buried her face in her upraised knees and muttered: "Letmegoletmegoletmego," a mantra that made Ronon want to clap his hands over his ears. "I think it's getting worse." Rhetoric was all he could manage at the moment; his brain was still scrambling to take in all that Teyla had told him.

The Scottish doctor hesitated, looking torn. He wanted to help Teyla as much or more than anyone, but it was obvious that he had no clue what to do. "I'll wake Doctor Weir," he finally muttered, hand reaching for his headset as he left the room.

Ronon watched Teyla. She continued her fevered muttering; it was punctuated every few seconds with sharp, gasping breaths. He shifted slightly to get a better look at her eyes. Beyond the smokiness of the Wraith changes, he could see that they were glazed. She stared right through him glassily; it was as if she did not even realize he was there anymore.

"Doc!" he called sharply. He was no doctor, but he just somehow _knew_ they were losing Teyla. Ronon unconsciously reached out to her, remembered the shield, and sharply withdrew his hand. "Come on, Teyla, look at me! Recognize me, please!" He wasn't past begging.

She winced at his voice and curled in tighter on herself, rocking slowly back and forth. Silent tears trailed down her cheeks, a stark contrast to the dead look in her eyes.

"No!" Ronon leapt to his feet and crossed the room in six long strides. Reaching out the door, he seized Beckett by his collar and dragged him back inside. "_Doc!_ Something is wrong with her!" He pointed back at Teyla.

"It's too early for another transformation!" Forgetting that his radio was still transmitting everything to the expedition leader, Beckett reached into his pocket and withdrew a syringe. He snapped an order to Ronon as he paused a few inches from the invisible wall the shield made. "Lower the shield and keep your weapon on stun, lad. I'm goin' in."

Ronon pulled out his blaster and checked it twice to make sure it was on stun. Gripping it tightly to keep his hand from quaking, he reached out his other and deactivated the controls keeping the door to the cell sealed and the shield active.

Beckett barely waited until the door was open enough to admit him. He slipped past it and into the cell, keeping the syringe hidden with his white lab coat as he reached out his free hand towards Teyla. His heavily-accented voice was low and soothing, but it just seemed to make Teyla even more agitated.

Ronon shifted closer to the doorway, maintaining a clear shot at Teyla. _Would I really be able to take the shot?_ He pushed the thought away. He would. He had to. _That's right. I just need to keep right on trying to convince myself._ He winced. _Why her?_ He felt as disjointed as his thoughts.

"Easy, lass, it's goin' t' be okay, now," Carson crooned. He slowly began to withdraw the syringe from within his coat.

Teyla spotted it. Suddenly she was no longer the timid, rocking little woman crazily muttering. Now she was a wild, screaming banshee. Her left hand shot out, knocking the syringe away. It hadn't even hit the floor when the same hand swung to push Beckett in the chest. The doctor landed on his backside and skidded across the floor, barely catching himself before the back of his head slammed against the bars on the opposite side of the cell.

By now Teyla was on her feet, eyes darting to and fro, looking frantically for a way out. Her chest heaved with shuddering gasps; she shuddered when her eyes met his and held for a fraction of a moment that felt like an eternity.

He was standing between her and the freedom she so longed for. It took her only another moment to make up her mind. She charged him.

Ronon forced himself to shut down his emotions and not think of her as Teyla – his Teyla. He clenched his jaw tightly and tightened his finger on the trigger, watching with a pit in his heart as the jolt of red burst free from the barrel of his weapon and struck Teyla square in the chest.

Her forward momentum reversed abruptly upon impact, knocking her backwards a few steps. For a moment she stood, stunned, her right hand clutched to her chest protectively. She stared at him, shock and betrayal in her eyes. To him, that one look was like a kick in the gut.

_What have I _done_ to her? _Ronon's heart and hand wavered at the same moment. He started shaking, the gun in his hand lowering ever-so-slightly.

Sensing his weakness, Teyla let out a wounded cry and dashed at him again. Still clutching her right hand to her chest, she shoved her left shoulder into his body full-on as she used her left hand to wrench his blaster away from him. As he hit the floor and skidded backwards on his side, he saw her stumble-running out the door.

"Teyla!" He scrambled to his feet and dashed out after her, weaponless but still determined to catch her.

It was not difficult to follow her. She left a trail of stunned Marines and scientists in her path; most had been fired upon by his weapon, still set on stun. Some had merely been pushed out of the way as she ran down the halls of Atlantis, cutting a clear path to the Gateroom.

Fear slithered up from the dark place he'd buried it long ago and clenched around his heart. Hate and anger for the Wraith that had done this to Teyla fueled his adrenaline and hastened his steps as he followed in her footsteps, hoping – praying – he'd catch her before she could dial out and leave the city – leave _him._

Ronon tore into the control room, ascertaining two things in a span of as many seconds. One, almost everyone in the control room had been stunned by his weapon, leaving only Doctor Weir and Chuck left conscious. Two, the Stargate in the room below was active, and Teyla was already on her way down the steps towards it.

He barely spared Weir and Chuck a glance as he ran after her, taking the steps two and three at a time. Teyla hit the bottom and walked toward the Stargate, her steps slow and even. It was as though she was in a trance, and some invisible force was drawing her towards the puddle.

"Teyla!" Ronon leaped the last four steps as he called out to her.

She heard him and stopped, only a few inches away from the beckoning event horizon. She still held his weapon, but it was lowered at his side.

"Please, stay." He took two hesitant steps toward her, desperate to get her to listen to him, to keep her there. "Please, Teyla."

She turned toward him, eyes meeting his and holding. Now there was painful recognition in her eyes; she recognized him. She knew he was, knew what he was asking of her.

Ronon dared take a few more steps toward her, forcing his hand to stay steady as he held it out. "Somehow we're going to get through this, Teyla. But we can't if you're not here." He stopped, swallowed, and hated himself for allowing his voice to break like it had. "Please, Teyla, I love you. Please stay." The admission cost him dearly; he had at last torn down the last wall keeping his heart from hers. If she tore it, he didn't know if he could handle it. All he could do was hope, and reach out for her.

Her eyes flitted from his hand back up to his face. He could tell she was uncertain, but she still took one step forward towards him. He almost had her back now–

Teyla's eyes looked past him towards the doorway into the room. He turned his head just far enough to where he could see the Marine security team pouring into the room, weapons steadily aimed for her. She let out a cry and took an involuntary step back, dangerously close to that event horizon.

"_Hold your fire!_" Ronon snapped, but he knew it was too late. In one second they'd destroyed all that he'd built up with her over what felt like an eternity.

Teyla looked back at him, a single tear trailing down her cheek. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_, still reaching for her.

She shook her head, dropped his weapon at her feet, then turned and plunged through the Stargate without a backwards glance.

With a suck and a pop, it shut down behind her.

Ronon shuddered. He stared with disbelieving eyes at his blaster, lying harmlessly before the inactive Stargate. The truth slapped him across the face like a stinging blow.

_She's gone._

_-To Be Continued-_


	12. Strategy

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 12/17

**-Chapter 11-**

_Strategy_

A hushed whisper flowed around her like water. It pressed against her ears and through her mind as a constant companion, putting her on edge as she was escorted through the halls of the Hive ship to what were to be her personal quarters. She could feel the Wraith's excitement; they were proud that their experiment had worked and she had come as they had planned.

Disturbingly, with a single thought she was able to close the door to her quarters behind her. She had left the other Wraith with orders not to disturb her unless it was important, leaving her to her own devices. Teyla attempted not to think about the former occupant of the room as she looked around. She didn't touch anything.

Already her mind was busy, working out a plan to destroy the Hive and her with it. It was as she'd told Ronon, all she had to do was get on the Hive. These Wraith thought of her as their Queen, they would not dispute her orders nor would they attempt to probe her mind. They would not know what was happening until it was too late for them to stop her.

_Ronon._ Her thoughts stilled, latching on to the single name that stirred up so many emotions within her, not the least of which was anguish. She was haunted by the look of pain in his eyes that she had seen the last time she'd looked at him before fleeing through the Stargate. His words pounded through her mind, drowning out the _other_ voices. _He loves me. Why?_ She tipped her head down to look at her pale green clawed hands. _How can he know this about me and still love me?_ It truly puzzled her.

Teyla forced her mind away from that issue, reminding herself that she had something very important that she needed to do. However, the subject of Ronon and his love for her – and her love for him – lingered at the peripheral of her mind as she quickly changed out of her pajamas and into one of the Queen's garments she found folded up on the shelf lining the far side of the room. If she was going to blend in and make her plan work, she needed to think like them, not just dress and look like them.

Doctor McKay had explained to her, at painstaking length, the intricacies of a Wraith Hive. At the time, she had not been interested in the subject and had thought that the knowledge would not be useful. However, she was quickly discovering that the lesson she'd learned that day would come in handy here. All she had to do was make her way to the central core of the ship, the "heart" as it were, and find a way to overload the power source so it would detonate.

_I am a queen,_ she told herself. _They will not stop me. And they will not know until it is too late for them._ She hesitated, once more staring down at her hands. _And me._

Teyla went to stand at the closest window and looked outside. The planet the Hive Ship had landed on had a beautiful vista. Trees and flowers and grass and water was abundant everywhere, and it was a breathtaking sight.

She couldn't enjoy it. _I am glad that beauty continues to exist. Perhaps it will help ease the pain in my friends when I am --_ She couldn't think it. She knew it would happen, she had accepted it, but thinking it made it real and true._ Oh, Ronon, why did this ever have to happen?_ Teyla shook her head morosely. She couldn't stop thinking about him, no matter how hard she tried. _Why do you haunt me so? If only we had had more time, perhaps--_

A wry smile bared her fangs. _Perhaps what?_ She left that thought where it was and turned to leave the Queen's quarters. It was time to put her plan into action.

**-Atlantis-**

Ronon knelt to pick up his blaster. He ran a hand over the metal of the weapon, not so much checking it for damage but remembering the betrayed look in Teyla's eyes when he'd shot her. Suddenly the weapon felt cold and heavy in his hands, and he swallowed hard. _Cold. Funny, that's how I feel right now. Cold and dumped._ He shoved that thought back where it belonged and turned to offer a general death glare to the fumbling Marine team.

He shoved his blaster back into its holster at his hip as he ran up the grand staircase to the control room. He and Colonel Sheppard arrived at the same time from opposite directions, and they both asked the same question at the same time. "Did you get the address?"

Weir was leaning over Chuck's shoulder, watching interestedly as the technician typed out a series of diagnostics on his laptop. "Yes," the petite woman said over her shoulder. "We did."

Sheppard paused a couple of inches behind Weir's left shoulder. "Permission to. . .?"

Atlantis's leader straightened and held up her hand. "Wait a minute, John. She went to a Wraith-infested planet; one of their _stronghold_. Are you sure it's a good idea to go blasting through the Stargate to try to mount a rescue mission?"

Ronon clenched his teeth at the delay. "I'll go through alone." He leveled a gaze on his friends, daring them to argue or stop him.

Sheppard and Weir both stared at him, mouths open in shock, for a moment. Then the colonel gathered his wits about him again and said: "No, you won't. It's too dangerous."

"I can move a lot faster alone. Or do I have to remind you that I was a Runner for seven years? I know how they think. I can do this." He turned to look at Weir. "If I fail, you'll only have lost two people instead of dozens." _I can't lose her. And if I do, at least I'll go out with her._

"Three." Sheppard moved to stand next to Ronon, looking almost as determined. "You can't go in alone, so I'll go with you for – moral support." He shrugged faintly at Dex when he leveled a disbelieving look on him.

Weir crossed her arms in an unconscious and nervous gesture. "Both of you, I can understand how you feel. Teyla is a good friend of mine, as well. But getting yourselves killed, too, will not help the situation."

_Do they all have to be so thick-headed?_ Ronon wisely swallowed that bitter comment. "If there's even the slightest chance that I can get her back, it's worth the risk. Her people need her; the team needs her." _I need her._ He didn't dare voice the last part, too afraid of what it meant. If he said it, there would truly be no going back. Not that he wanted to. But he needed to be clear-headed and have a unbiased heart when he went in to get Teyla out. Otherwise, they would never let him go; or he might fail. And that was unacceptable.

Weir met and held his eyes firmly for a moment that seemed to stretch an eternity. At last she blinked and looked away towards the Stargate, her arms still wrapped protectively around herself. She was outnumbered, and she knew it. "Very well. Bring her home. But _be careful._ I want you all three home in one piece."

Ronon nodded to her, a silent thank-you for her permission. He followed Sheppard across the control room and down the stairs so they could get geared up to leave, trying to convince himself that there was no other way. That she hadn't honestly wanted to leave Atlantis, to leave him, forever. That she hadn't given up, and didn't _want_ to die.

Somehow, he just couldn't do it.

**-M79411 – Wraith stronghold-**

The dark, dank stench of death and fear pressed against Teyla as she made her way down the halls of the ship towards her destination. She passed many male and drone Wraith on the way; all of them stopped what they were doing to bow slightly in her direction. She had never seen them like this; there were so many ways that their showing deference to her disturbed her. She had known that the Wraith had a hierarchy, but being the head of this particular one made her skin crawl. She wanted _out_ of this, and _soon._

One particular male appeared to her vague left and bowed to her, then fell into step with her. "Is there anything you need, Queen?" he asked, his voice a low hiss.

Teyla resisted the urge to shudder in revulsion. "No. I am inspecting my ship. Let me be at once." The command came out much sharper than she'd meant it to; the male shot her a somewhat surprised look. However, he willingly backed off with another bow, this one of acquiesce.

Hunger suddenly leaped up and began to gnaw at her as she passed by a doorway. She stopped, horrified, knowing immediately what was on the other side. The smell was stronger here; with her highly acute Wraith senses, she could _smell_ what the enemy part of her whispered was prey, food for her taking as the Queen.

Teyla clapped her hand over her mouth to smother her soft cry and ran as fast as she could to get away. She was sickened; she yearned for this nightmare to just be _over_. She had to save Atlantis, the galaxy, from this ship and herself. In another few short hours she would experience her final transformation, and then Teyla Emmagan would cease to exist. In her place, a new Wraith Queen would rise to become yet another scourge upon this galaxy and the Atlantians.

That thought calmed her and redirected her focus to the matter at hand. She was going to die, but she was going to do it as a human and not a Wraith.

Feeling clear-headed for the first time in days, Teyla continued her steady march towards the core of the ship. As her destination grew closer, anticipation steadily rose with it. Hope peeked its head out from hiding and allowed her to believe that this might actually work. Perhaps this wasn't a crazy plan.

**-M79411 – Wraith stronghold-**

"This plan is crazy."

Ronon glanced at Sheppard and arched one eyebrow, listening to the retreating footsteps of yet another drone. "You got a better idea? If you do, feel free to share."

Sheppard sent him an acidic look. "When did you get so jumpy?"

"Since Teyla started morphing into a Wraith Queen. Or since we got here, take your pick." Ronon peered over his teammate's shoulder at the Ancient life-signs detector he held. "See anything?"

"Just us." Sheppard slid around the corner back out into the hall, Ronon a step behind him. "So where's the central core?"

Dex glared at the colonel's back. "You didn't listen to McKay, did you?"

The silence stretched uncomfortably, then John said quietly: "Actually, I did. But none of it made any sense."

"'Scuse me." Ronon slipped past Sheppard and took the lead. "I know where it is."

Now it was Sheppard's turn to be surprised. "You mean you understood Rodney?"

"Of course not. I've been in Hives before; I know the layout a little too well." Disgust slithered up his spine at the sounds and smells wafting towards him, ones that stirred up unpleasant memories and unwelcome thoughts. "Hopefully we'll be in time."

"Pessimist," Sheppard muttered under his breath. Then, louder, "Detector's still clear. So far, so good."

Ronon paused, closed his eyes, and listened. He could hear nothing past the bass hum of the vessel, but the darkness helped him to concentrate and picture the general layout of the ship. He reopened his eyes and motioned with the barrel of his blaster. "This way."

They walked in silence for a little while. The closer to the core they got, the emptier the ship appeared to be. It made Ronon jumpy. Was this a trap? This part of the ship should be swarming with Wraith, but there were none.

Sheppard hissed to get his attention. "One life sign, straight ahead."

Perhaps he'd been a little hasty with that observation. Ronon halted, backing up into the shadow of the wall with Sheppard. "Coming this way?" he asked.

"No. It's headed the same direction we are." The look Sheppard gave him was half-hopeful, half-concerned. "What do you think?"

Ronon shrugged. "One way to find out." He slipped out from their cover and followed the hall deeper into the heart of the ship, hoping he'd find Teyla at the end. And that they weren't too late. And that this wasn't a trap.

Sheppard followed him, footsteps as stealthily as Dex's. The only sounds were their breathing, the rumbling of the ship, and the minute chirping of the life signs detector.

Ronon paused outside a doorway, waiting for Sheppard to tell him which way the life sign they were following had gone.

"It's stopped," his teammate reported. "Looks like the central core is on the other side of this door."

Ronon nodded and located the door controls. One shot from his blaster had the door hissing open to allow them entrance.

The first thing he saw when he entered the room was the massive core that stretched from the ceiling stories above them down to the black abyss beneath them. The second thing that came to his attention was the precarious catwalk that led from the doorway to the ledge that went around the core.

The third, and final, thing was the lone figure standing on the ledge, leaning over the controls. She turned when she heard them enter, Wraith eyes wide with fear and surprise. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Sheppard poked his head around the doorframe. "They're coming!"

Teyla briefly glanced at the colonel before returning her attention to Ronon. "You have to go! I've set the controls to overload the core, all I have to do is activate it."

"We came back here to get you." Ronon slowly moved across the catwalk, keeping his eyes trained on Teyla. "Please, come back with us. It's not too late yet."

Teyla looked at him, then back at the core, then back at him. "I'm sorry, Ronon," she said softly. "I wish I could believe you, that things had been different."

Ronon's stomach and heart clenched at the same time.

She pressed the activation control.

_-To Be Continued-_


	13. Voyages

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 13/17

**-Chapter 12-**

_Voyages_

"Teyla, _why_?"

She looked away from him and lowered her head. Silver hair draped across her shoulder and hid her face from him as she spoke. "I am sorry, Ronon. You should have just let me go. I left so you would not be destroyed by what I have become." Teyla slowly shook her head. "I should have known you would not give up."

Alarms began to mournfully wail as she finished speaking. It was like a painful end to her sentence, a death toll that sealed their fates. In the hallway outside the door, Ronon heard the approach of many Wraith and the clattering of Sheppard's P-90.

However, he wasn't ready to give up yet. Not by a long shot. "_Look_ at me." Ronon caught Teyla by her shoulder and spun her around. She averted her eyes, but he caught her chin and tipped her face up. "How long until that thing overloads and we get blown to oblivion?"

Teyla jerked away from him. "There is not enough time to leave the ship and get through the Stargate." She spun back around to face the core. "I am sorry that you were dragged into this, Ronon. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else."

He clenched his teeth and snagged her around the waist. Even though she struggled mightily as he lifted her and hauled her across the catwalk back towards the door, he had no trouble carrying her. "For once, _I'm_ going to be the optimist."

She stilled as they burst into the hall, her eyes wide as she watched him single-handedly blaze an opening in the wall of Wraith coming towards them. "Sheppard!" he bellowed. He had to be loud to be heard over the screech of that infernal alarm and the echo of the gunfire being traded back and forth.

The colonel was across the hall from him, using a niche in the wall as cover. "What?" he shouted back.

"Think you can fly a Dart again?" Ronon fired twice in rapid succession, felling two Wraith that had come a little too close.

Teyla twisted in his grasp and hissed slightly. "You are _crazy_!"

"Maybe. Just how far away are we from the Dart bay, anyway?"

Sheppard interrupted. "Why do you want to know?" He poked around the wall and sprayed fire into the oncoming enemy.

"Teyla set the core to overload! There's not enough time to get to the Stargate on foot!" Ronon ignored the angry noises Teyla was making as he spun back around the corner to avoid a shot aimed at his head. It passed so close to his ear that he could feel the heat of it passing as he ducked.

"I will take you there," Teyla conceded. He could feel her go limp as all the fight drained out of her.

"Let's go then." Feeling like he was on a suicide mission, Ronon nodded across the hall to Sheppard. At the same moment, both men burst free from their covers and charged the oncoming Wraith, somehow managing to avoid being hit as they opened fire on them.

_Maybe Teyla is right. This _is_ crazy._ Ronon used his blaster to fire at the Wraith coming from his right while simultaneously driving the blade of his knife into the heart of the one approaching on his left. Ahead and to his left, Sheppard was spraying P-90 fire into the oncoming forces to clear a path.

The Wraith slowly began to retreat, knocked back by the shock of the ferocity of their prey – and by the fact that their Queen was quite obviously working against them. She had lifted a Wraith rifle from one of the fallen drones and was using it to help her friends clear the path.

The alarm changed in pitch, and Ronon's ears popped painfully. "What the--?" he blustered, snatching Teyla away from the path of a stray energy beam. "What's that mean?"

She reached out and snagged Sheppard by the collar of his tac vest, yanking him around the corner with her and nearly dragging him off his feet. "We do not have much time!" she screamed, her voice gravelly.

They met even more resistance the closer they got to the Dart bay. Apparently the Wraith had figured out their plan; it seemed every drone on the ship had gathered in that one place to prevent them from leaving.

_Now what?_

Teyla seemed to have read his mind. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew a small oval device; holding it in one hand, she used the other to pull the top up. She turned it a quarter of the way around, then pushed the two ends back together and lobbed it into the onrush of Wraith coming at them from behind.

"Cover!" she yelled, palming open the door to her right. Ronon and Sheppard followed her in, the door closing only a moment before an explosion pounded against it.

"That ought to slow them down a little." Teyla opened the door again, carelessly stepping over debris as she led the way through what was left of the Wraith to the Dart bay. "We only have two minutes left; we need to hurry!"

Sheppard left them and went ahead into the bay to get a ship. "I'll come back and beam you in!" he yelled over his shoulder.

Ronon and Teyla hovered in the doorway, waiting and listening for the familiar buzz of the Dart so they could escape.

_Hurry, hurry._ Now that they were no longer moving, the Wraith were gaining distance on them. They were a pressing wave of hissing, screeching, angry vampires, all very eager to kill them both. It had seemed impossible up to this point, but now Ronon was starting to be hopeful that this crazy, mixed-up plan just might succeed.

"One minute!" Teyla's call blended with the oncoming drone of Sheppard's Dart. It made a graceful arc and headed towards them, the pitch of its engine increasing as it picked up speed and prepared to engage its disintegration beam.

The Dart grew closer, closer-- Ronon and Teyla pivoted exactly at the same time and ran towards the ship, facing into the screaming silver beam as it swept toward them. They pushed for every step, feeling a rumbling beneath their feet as the core prepared to explode.

Pain seared into his shoulder so suddenly that he lost his balance, falling forward and knocking into Teyla. She hissed angrily, screaming something unintelligible at him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and heaved them both forward with a mighty leap.

Silver light flashed in front of his eyes, and then faded out to blackness.

**-Cockpit of a Wraith Dart-**

Alarms were screeching in John's ears, and the control panel before him lit up like Chicago at Christmastime. The roof above and around him flashed warnings in Wraith, but he focused on the one positive alert – transport was successful. Two life signs were now safely stored in the Dart's buffer.

John veered the Wraith ship to the right, towards the exit that would take him outdoors. He was already using the built-in DHD to dial as he made a wide circuit to get lined up with the Stargate. He'd flown one of these only twice before. He hadn't enjoyed it then, and he didn't enjoy it now.

_Don't blow this, Shep. We've come this far, we got her out, now don't crash us or blow us up before we can get back home._ John drew in a deep breath and aimed the Dart's sleek nose toward the glyph that represented the Stargate. He desperately wished that the area before him wasn't opaque; on the other hand, from the sound of all the alarms and the rumbling that he could hear even over the drone of the engines, he thought that he didn't _want_ to be able to see outside.

_Falling._ John momentarily felt like he was pulling Gs, falling into a nosedive that would yank the propellers right off a chopper. Then, abruptly, everything was normal again.

_We made it!_ The ride through the wormhole only affected him that way when he was in a ship; and in this case he was thankful for that feeling.

Now all he had to do was rematerialize Ronon and Teyla, then find a place to land the ship – that being _not_ on top of anyone or anything.

_We made it. I can't believe that _actually_ worked!_ He squinted at the HUD before him, wondering what glyph meant humans and villages, and which one meant clear landing space.

_It's not over yet._

John scowled and pushed that thought away. Beckett had still been hard at work when he and Ronon left; surely by now he had something.

He hoped for the best and pressed the control for reintegration. _We haven't come this far only to fail now,_ he told himself. _Beckett is going to find that cure, and we're going to get our teammate back._

John had no problem telling himself that. The trouble was believing it.

**-M4R501-**

Ronon grunted in pain as he landed on top of Teyla. For a moment, the world spun and tilted around him, and he was sure they were still on the Hive about to be obliterated.

"Teyla?" Was that hoarse voice really his?

She hissed slightly and gently pushed him away so she could sit up. "Ronon? Are you okay?" She rubbed her head with her left hand, pushing strands of silver hair away from her face.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Sheppard interrupted by running up. "Are you both okay?"

Teyla shook her head, scrambling over to kneel next to Ronon. "We need to get back to Atlantis. Ronon is injured." She looked at him, worried.

Suddenly Ronon felt confident that Teyla wasn't seeing the situation as hopeless as before. She slipped his good arm around her shoulders and helped him struggle to his feet. "Get the Stargate dialed," she said to Sheppard. "I'll help Ronon."

Ronon gratefully leaned on Teyla as she helped him towards home. The pain in his arm had nothing over the pain in his heart. They'd gotten Teyla back, and they were headed home, but he knew that it still might be far too late. In less than three hours, Teyla would experience the final transformation that would make her a Wraith Queen, forever. And, at the moment, they had no clue how to prevent that from happening by making her normal again.

"We're safe!" Sheppard called. He came up to them, gently motioning for Teyla to move aside so he could help Ronon.

He felt Teyla's left arm tighten around his waist, and she stubbornly shook her head. Sheppard shot Ronon a questioning look that Dex responded to with a nod. In truth, he didn't want Teyla to let go of him. If only he could cling to her forever and never let her go.

Weir, McKay, Beckett, and a team of Marines were waiting when they reached home. Immediately the doctor moved forward when he saw that Ronon was injured, but Teyla held up her hand.

The Scot stopped, eyes wide and questioning. He looked to Sheppard, who shrugged.

Even Ronon was wondering what Teyla was doing. He only vaguely heard the Stargate shut down behind them as she knelt, a gentle pressure on his waist bringing him down with her.

She looked at him, Wraith eyes serious. "Do you trust me, Ronon?" she asked softly. There was pain in her voice, as though she was afraid to hear his answer.

_Always_. The word stuck in his throat; all he could do was silently nod. _Teyla, I'll always trust you._

Teyla smiled faintly; a gentle, thankful look glittered in her eyes. Then she closed them as she drew in a deep breath, reaching out her right hand towards him and resting it on his shoulder, directly over the area of his wound.

Ronon cringed at the contact, biting back a groan of pain at the pressure. He could tell Teyla was trying very hard to concentrate on what she was doing-- What was she doing?

She exhaled.

A small tendril of warmth started in the center of his wound and started outward, enveloping his shoulder and the side of his neck. The heat radiated from Teyla's palm, and he could _feel_ it regenerating the damaged nerves and skin cells in his shoulder.

Somehow, going against everything they knew about the Wraith, Teyla was _healing _him.

He must have allowed a small sound of surprise to escape him, because suddenly the Marines had surrounded them. The barrels of their weapons pointed directly at Teyla; fingers were poised on triggers, ready to shoot.

Teyla flinched, but didn't remove her hand.

"Don't!" Ronon held up the hand on his uninjured side, unable to tear his gaze from Teyla. He saw her jaw tense, and her breath hitched as her hand loosened its grip on his shoulder.

Finally she opened her eyes, and Ronon could tell she was putting forth an effort. She swayed a little, her gaze glassy and unfocused as she stared at him. "Ronon--" She gulped for air, shook her head as if to clear it, and spoke again. "--I had to. One last good thing – right?" A smile ghosted her lips, then faded as she toppled forward. She was too weak to hold herself upright any longer.

Ronon caught her and held her against him. "Teyla, I-I--" Suddenly he couldn't breathe; couldn't think. "Thank you." Two little words, so inadequate for all the emotions raging inside him.

She blinked and smiled again, for a brief moment looking once more like the old Teyla. "Love – you, Ronon."

Then her eyes slipped closed, and her head fell limply against his chest.

_-To Be Continued-_


	14. Tension

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 14/17

**-Chapter 13-**

_Tension_

"She looks awful." He couldn't stop the words from slipping through his mouth any more than he could stop the accompanying thought. _It's my fault._ This he didn't voice.

Beckett silently regarded him for a moment, then sighed heavily. "Aye."

For some reason, that single word rang final in Ronon's mind. He hated it – hated himself. "She's always so selfless, and now--" He didn't finish. He didn't have to. _Now it's killing her._ The words stuck in his throat. _I never deserved her in the first place._

The two men silently stared at each other across Teyla's infirmary bed. Both had hearts heavy with sorrow; one because he could not find the cure, the other because he was rapidly losing the woman he loved.

Beckett nodded slowly in agreement. He looked down at Teyla's face, winced, then turned and headed towards the med lab at the back of the spacious room. Back to work for him.

Ronon clenched his teeth a little. He hated waiting; hated feeling helpless. His wish had been granted, the Wraith who had done this to Teyla had been destroyed. But still, it didn't make him feel any better. Teyla was still transforming, _dying_.

Movement at the very edge of his vision made him briefly turn his head. Sheppard had come into the infirmary and moved to stand next to Ronon without the ex-Runner's noticing.

"How is she doing?" Sheppard's voice was low, as though afraid if he spoke too loud he'd wake Teyla.

Ronon shook his head. "Not good. Beckett said that she's dying." His hands curled into fists. Saying it made it seem more real; more like it was really going to happen. "It was because she healed me. If she hadn't--"

"I know," Sheppard said softly. "I already talked to Beckett. I just asked you because--" He paused, thought a moment, then shrugged. "Actually, I'm not sure why I asked. I guess it's because you're closer to her than anyone else in the city."

He wasn't sure quite how to take that, so he let it go with a silent nod of acknowledgment.

Sheppard glanced at Teyla, then back to Ronon. "You know, Beckett said that if she hadn't healed you, she would be experiencing the last transformation soon. In a way, that saved her life."

"_In a way._" Ronon spat the words bitterly. "It delayed, not stopped, it. And it doesn't change the fact that she's dying."

"We got her back." Sheppard's tone was sharp, his gaze piercing. "Let's just take this one small victory at a time, shall we?"

Ronon felt irrational anger at his teammate's ability to take this so calmly. "How can you be so _cool_ about this? Beckett is no closer to the cure, Teyla is _dying_, and it is _my fault_." He snapped his mouth shut, wishing he could snatch his last words back. _Especially_ after seeing the look of surprise on Sheppard's face.

"You think this is your fault? You think she blames you?" The colonel shook his head. "She did what she wanted to. It's not your fault, nor mine, that this happened. I won't pretend to know the reason _why_, or how it's going to turn out. But _that_ I do know."

Ronon looked away and gritted his teeth. _I know she doesn't blame me. She should._ He clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to hit something, wanted to scream. Wanted to do _anything_ but stand there and _wait_. "She's a good person. She doesn't deserve this." The words came out punctuated with forceful pauses.

Sheppard glanced at him, then back at Teyla. He considered Ronon's words, opened his mouth to speak. Then something in his expression changed, and he closed his mouth again. Shaking his head slightly, he patted his teammate awkwardly on the shoulder and then left.

Ronon silently watched him leave. He almost called Sheppard back, but the words stuck in his throat. Truthfully, he was selfishly glad to be alone with Teyla again.

Time crept by with no changes in Teyla's condition. Ronon finally slumped down in the chair next to her bed. Eventually he crossed his arms on the railing and rested his head on them, quietly studying Teyla's Wraith-like features and willing her to wake.

Beckett came in a few times to check up on Teyla. One of those times, he gently suggested that Ronon go get some rest. Dex offered him a determined glare, daring the doctor to _make_ him leave. The Scot mentioned it no more after that single attempt.

Ronon's eyelids grew heavy, and he fell into a waking doze. One ear was concentrated on Teyla's even breathing; the other listened for any sounds from the door. Vague images drifted through his mind as he slept – things from his past, and his present, and something that persistently hovered at the back of his mind. But he couldn't capture the thought--

Finally, he could fight it no longer. He slept.

**-Atlantis-**

"_I've got it!_"

Ronon jerked awake, nearly falling out of his chair at the yell approximately two inches from his ear. Automatically, his hand reached out to snag by the throat the source of the noise.

McKay hopped out of reach and frantically waved his data pad. Behind him, Beckett looked as bemused as Ronon felt. "I've got it!" The astrophysicist was practically dancing in place, looking extraordinarily smug.

"McKay!" Ronon growled. He got to his feet and stood over the scientist, and intimidating and demanding expression on his face. "Stop babbling and tell us what it is you've got!" _And it had better not be contagious._ He pushed that rather Sheppard-sounding thought away and concentrated on his teammate.

Rodney thrust his data pad into Ronon's face. "There, see? Look! All we have to do is hook up a naquadah reactor to the Ancient life pod, do a little reprogramming--"

Beckett interrupted by snatching the pad from McKay and examining it. "This makes no sense! How do ye expect to use the life pod to change Teyla from a Wraith back to a human? It sustains life, not--"

Rodney waved a hand imperturbably. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. Your specialty is medicine, mine is science." He took his data pad back. "Trust me, this is going to work, but we have to do it _now_! Because, correct me if I'm wrong, it's almost time for Teyla's last transformation. Right?"

To add to the bedlam, at that moment Weir and Sheppard walked in at the same time. The colonel looked sleep-rumpled, but the diplomat looked as unruffled and poised as usual. "What's going on?" she demanded.

McKay huffed impatiently. "Do we have to go through this again?" he asked nobody in particular. He turned to face Weir. "I've figured out a way to use the Ancient life pod to switch Teyla back. But we've got to do it now, before Teyla undergoes her final transformation and it's too late for us to do _anything._"

Doctor Weir blinked and looked at Sheppard. "The life pod? Rodney, are you sure--?" She trailed off and glanced at Teyla, then at Beckett. "Do you understand it?"

Rodney was still dancing in place. "Don't you get it? How can you not get it? I've figured out a way to reprogram the life pod to re-sequence DNA. All I need is a sample of Teyla's blood before she started changing, and a naquadah reactor, and this should work."

"Should?" Now Sheppard looked fully awake. "_Should_? We can't risk everything on _should_, Rodney! Teyla--"

"Do it."

Everyone spun as one to face the infirmary bed. There had been too much going on for anyone to notice that Teyla had woken. She was sitting up in bed, tangled silver hair hanging around her face, Wraith eyes serious. Her gaze drifted from face to face, then finally settled on Ronon. "Please, do it."

Ronon felt caught by Teyla's gaze, his throat closing off. He couldn't speak. _Do you know what you just ordered us to do?_ He didn't get what McKay had said, but he knew it was dangerous. It was always dangerous.

McKay came up to stand beside Ronon. "Teyla, you – this is very risky." It seemed, now that it was crunch time, he wasn't so certain. "If I get the calculations wrong – if something malfunctions while you're in the pod--"

Teyla tipped her head to the side a little. "If you do not do it, I will die. Or, worse than that, transform into a Wraith. I do not want that. This way--" she paused, looked back at Ronon "–this way, there is hope. Either way."

McKay swallowed hard and looked at Ronon, almost as if asking permission. He hugged his data pad to his chest, eyes wide and uncertain.

Ronon ignored everyone else in the room and stepped up to Teyla's bed. He didn't have to ask, he could see the certainty in her eyes that was lacking in Rodney's. It was her choice, and she was sure of it. She wanted this.

Teyla turned to Beckett and McKay. "We must hurry."

_-To Be Continued-_


	15. Battle

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 15/17

**-Chapter 14-**

_Battle_

Beckett hurried off towards the back of the infirmary to get some med equipment and the requested sample of Teyla's blood. McKay left, mumbling something about reactors and crystals. Sheppard followed, presumably to keep an eye on the excited scientist. Weir hovered halfway between Teyla's bed and the door, as though waiting to escort the three remaining.

Ronon and Teyla awkwardly stared at each other, neither quite sure what to say. They both knew what could happen in the next few minutes, but didn't want to snap that frail thread of hope that they were so desperately holding on to. It would work. All they needed was a little confidence.

Beckett reentered the cubicle and looked at Ronon and Teyla for a long moment. "Are ye ready?" he asked them.

Teyla wordlessly nodded and tossed back her covers. Before she could try to swing herself out of the bed, Ronon picked her up and followed Beckett and Weir out of the infirmary.

"What are you doing?" Teyla's arms loosened around his shoulders a bit when she got over her surprise at his action.

Ronon shrugged a little. "I don't know – I just wanted to." He couldn't explain it. He just _needed_ to carry her, to offer her support in the only way he could.

She silently gazed at him for a moment, as though gauging the truth in his statement. Then she smiled a little and leaned her head over to rest against Ronon's shoulder. "Thank you, Ronon."

Ronon glanced down at her, but her hair hid her face. He hugged her a little closer, each step accompanied by a desperate hope that this crazy plan McKay had would work. He wasn't scared of what Teyla was now, he was afraid of what was happening to her. It was almost time for her final transformation, the last step to her becoming a Wraith Queen.

_It will work._ He clung to those words as he did to Teyla. _We have overcome every obstacle up to now. We have come this close, there is no _way_ we can lose now!_

Teyla shuddered, then went completely rigid. "Ronon, tell them to hurry. It's happening--!"

Unconsciously, Ronon began to walk faster. "Doc!"

Carson paused to let Dex catch up. He took one look at the carefully controlled look of fear and pain on Teyla's face and _knew_. "Okay, we need to speed this up a wee bit." He gave Ronon a slight push. "Go, lad. We'll catch up to ye."

Ronon didn't wait for a second order. He shifted Teyla a little so he wouldn't drop her, instinctively holding her to his chest.

He _ran._

Teyla clutched his shoulders tighter and buried her face in his neck. "Ronon, I am so sorry -- so sorry. . ." She trailed off and let out a muffled screech of agony.

Ronon couldn't answer. He was concentrating on not tripping, or missing the turn into the life-pod room, or dropping Teyla. He tightened his grip for a moment, hoping that would be enough to reassure her. He didn't blame her for what was happening, he just wished she didn't blame herself.

Sheppard's head suddenly appeared around a doorframe, and Ronon skidded to a halt. "Sheppard! Does McKay have that thing working yet?"

"Almost. All he needs is Teyla and the blood sample. He's got everything reprogrammed so it'll automatically kick in when the last two components are in place." Sheppard led Ronon into the dimly-lit room. "Is it time?"

McKay was hidden from the waist up in the free-standing console next to the life pod. Obviously thinking this question was aimed at him, he pulled out and glared at Sheppard over his shoulder. "I told you th— Oh. Ronon." He scrambled to his feet, then noticed Teyla. "Oh my – oh my – it's time for her transformation _now_?"

"_Yes!_" Teyla growled.

The scientist stared in shock for a moment, eyes wide. Then he shook it off and pointed. "There! Put her in the pod now!" He ran for the door. "Carson!" he bawled.

Sheppard manipulated the controls to get the door open as Ronon carried Teyla across the room and set her down on her feet next to the pod. He took her by the arms and gently forced her to look at him. "Teyla? Teyla, look at me."

Her entire body was stiff, and there was a shell-shocked expression on her face. But she looked at him, and he could tell she was listening.

"I'm not much for words. I don't know if this is going to work or not – I wish I could say for sure that it's going to. But know that whether it does, or doesn't, I—"

Teyla shook her head and pressed the back of her left hand against Ronon's lips. "Don't say it." Her voice was hoarse. "Just wait. Please."

He wanted to say it. But he understood why she didn't want him to, so he acceded to her wish. He crushed her to him in a hug, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. He could only hope it was enough.

He let her go. _I love you, Teyla._

**-Atlantis-**

Teyla watched the clear door of the life pod swing closed before her, locking her away from Ronon and everyone else she—

_Love._ She closed her eyes and breathed through the pain of the oncoming transformation. _He loves me._ Her hands curled into tight fists, and she hissed in anger. _The Wraith. They destroy everything._

Ronon's words replayed in her mind, and she relaxed her hands. _This will work. It has to. I did not let him say it, so it has to work so he can. So _I_ can say it to him. Again._

She opened her eyes and saw Rodney motion to her that he was going to start the device. _This will work, this will work, this will work._ Teyla nodded to her teammate and prepared herself for whatever would come.

_Ice. _ A low hiss started down somewhere near her feet, and the cold crept up her body.

_Darkness._ Black pressed against her closed eyes. She had only a moment to wonder where the light had gone before the—

_Screaming!_ She resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears, knowing it would do no good. What she felt – heard – was the pressure of a thousand Wraith consciousnesses heaving and clawing at her mind. They demanded entrance, demanded control. Demanded that she didn't—

_Fight!_ She bared her fangs and fought back with her own mind, repelling the screaming monsters that only existed in her head. She wouldn't let them win. They couldn't have her heart for evil, it belonged to someone else now.

_Fire! _It pulsed and raced through her veins, setting every nerve ending in her body alight. She fought for control, fought to keep from screaming. Her senses reeled. She felt like she was falling one moment, being torn apart from the inside-out the next.

Then. . .

_Silence._ Teyla slumped against the back of the pod in relief. She gasped air into lungs that felt like they'd been burned, marveling at the sudden and complete silence in her mind.

No voices.

No fire.

No ice.

Nothing.

Cool air rushed across her skin like a soothing balm. She felts hands take her by the shoulders; she was pulled against something solid and warm.

_Ronon._ She couldn't make the word come out. She was aware of soft, non-invasive voices around her. Tears tracked down her cheeks though she had yet to open her eyes.

She couldn't do that, not yet. She was too frightened. If this was a dream, something brought on by the final transformation— She couldn't bear that.

"Teyla. Teyla! Please, open your eyes. Look at me." Ronon picked her up, and she was aware of being carried. Then she was laid down on something soft – a gurney. "Teyla, come on!"

She couldn't hide forever. Not from Ronon, and not from the truth. So she did it.

Teyla opened her eyes.

No one said anything when she did. They just looked at her from the circle they'd formed around her, their eyes wide.

She lifted her hands from beside her and stared at them. Then she reached up and grasped her hair, holding it out so she could see it. She curled her lips and ran a finger across her teeth.

"I--" She couldn't talk, she felt so overwhelmed. Her skin was still a little pale, her hair shot through with silver, her teeth a little sharp. But the voices were gone, and she _knew_ she was going to be okay now.

Beckett touched her arm. "The retrovirus will take care of the rest," he whispered.

Teyla nodded and sat up, relieved when no one took a step back. She smiled at Carson, a small "thank you" that definitely was not adequate. But she couldn't find the words to say what was. She moved her gaze from person to person around the group, warmly thanking them with her eyes for all they'd done. She still couldn't get her voice to work, though she knew this time it was from emotion.

She reached Ronon last. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. She didn't know what to do, what to think. Did he still feel that way about her?

He smiled. Then he leaned forward and hugged her tightly, whispering into her hair: "_I love you._"

Then, right in front of everyone, he kissed her.

_-To Be Continued-_


	16. Appreciation

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 16/17

**-Chapter 15-**

_Appreciation_

Life was normal again. _Breathe in._ Well, as normal as it ever was living in Atlantis. _Breathe out._ Most importantly, Teyla supposed, _she_ was normal again. _Relax, focus._

Carson had released her from the infirmary earlier that day. He told her that she was back to normal; he had recommended she slowly ease herself back into her normal routine. Sparring would be out of the question for a while, he'd said – particularly if Ronon was involved.

That final comment had made her laugh, but only a little. Of all the things she hadn't been able to do during her time incarcerated by – and then _as_ – Wraith, it had been sparring with Ronon.

Teyla shook herself a little. _I am not concentrating._ She focused on the soothing scents of her aromatic candles and tried to clear her mind again. _Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax. Focus the mind, and the heart will follow._

However, her heart seemed to want to focus on something else. _Ronon._ Her lips tipped upward in a smile until she firmly pressed them together. _Stop it! Now concentrate on meditation. You need this, remember?_ The corners of her mouth tickled again. She clenched her teeth. _Ronon, you infuriating man! Why can I not get you out of my mind?_

Her door chimed. She ignored it. _Go away!_ Teyla threw the thought at the door; let out her breath to try again.

The door chimed again; an impatient ring this time, accompanied by a knock. Just in case she hadn't heard the chime, she supposed.

_Do _not_ make me get off this bed._ She turned her mind back to her candles. _Concentrate on the scents. They are coming toward you, picking up your weightless mind and carrying you—_

The door opened. The bright lights from the hall turned the insides of her eyelids red. Without even cracking an eye, Teyla reached behind her, picked up a pillow, threw it at the door. "I am trying to meditate, Ronon."

Ronon's deep chuckle preceded the pillow bouncing against her arm by a millisecond. "I know." The door closed, and she knew he was in the room with her. "Mind if I stay?"

Teyla couldn't help herself. She smiled. "Are you going to meditate with me?"

Silence. Then, "No. Sorry."

She gave up and opened her eyes. "Sit." Teyla motioned to the chair next to the bed. "I will make us tea." She scooted off the bed, going to the small warming plate in the corner.

Ronon didn't sit. He came to loom behind her, a giant but gentle presence. "Forget the tea for a minute, huh? I need to talk to you."

Teyla's hands suddenly began to shake. She nearly dropped the vessel of tea leaves she held. "Is – something wrong?" She gently set down the container before she _did_ drop it.

Ronon draped an arm over her shoulder and led her back to the chair she'd offered him. He gently guided her to a seated position on it and crouched down in front of her. For the first time, _he_ was looking up at _her_.

"Teyla, I—" He stopped and stared up at her for a long time. Finally he looked down and took her hands in his. "You know I love you, right?"

Teyla swallowed and nodded. She couldn't force any words past the sudden constriction in her throat.

Ronon's grasp tightened a little; he gazed at their clasped hands as if they were the most interesting things in the world. "I guess – I want—" He stopped. Lowering his head to rest on their joined hands, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping. "I just want –_ need_ – to know if we're okay."

Her heart constricted. She had never seen him this way before; she wondered if she would ever know how much that question cost him.

Teyla's throat came unstuck. "Ronon—" Scrambling out of her chair, she dropped to her knees in front of him; wrapped her arms around his shoulders; and _clung_.

Ronon slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her to him. His face pressed into her hair, his breath stirring the strands next to her ear.

"More than _okay_," Teyla said. She pulled back a little to ask a question of her own. "You are not mad at _me_?" That was what she feared he had come to confront her with: her Wraith DNA, and the fact she had not told him about it.

Ronon blinked at her, obviously trying to wrap his mind around her question. "Why would _I _be mad at _you_?"

Teyla sighed a little and ducked her head. "I have Wraith DNA. I can connect my mind with them, sense them. I am part _them_. I know how you feel about the Wraith. So I never told you, because I was afraid we would lose our friendship – relationship – if I did. You are not mad at me for that?"

His hands, large and calloused, reached up to cup her face. "Teyla, it's not your fault. You didn't ask for this to happen to you or your ancestors. I blame _them_, the Wraith – not you." He hugged her to him again. "I will _never_ blame you."

She let out the shaky breath she'd been holding. "Thank you, Ronon." She willingly hugged him back. "For _everything._"

Ronon smiled into her neck, squeezing her tighter. "Anything. Anytime."

Teyla closed her eyes and _knew._ This man, this fierce and gentle warrior – _he_ was who she'd been fighting for. And with him by her side, nothing could hurt her ever again.

_-To Be Concluded-_


	17. Epilogue

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 17/17

**-Epilogue-**

She couldn't sleep.

Teyla rolled over onto her right side, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to coerce her body into allowing her rest. She didn't know why she couldn't sleep. The nightmares associated with her Wraith capture and subsequent transformation had stopped almost six months ago.

A tiny smile curled her lips; she buried her face in her pillow to smother a happy laugh as she remembered _why_ the nightmares had stopped. Now she believed in happy endings, like that of Elizabeth's book. As a married woman, how could she not?

She swallowed back another giddy laugh and closed her eyes again. _Sleep._

Teyla's mind wouldn't obey her command. Her brain was occupied with lines and shading; her fingers ached to draw. She had only pulled out her sketch pad a few times since she'd originally dug it out again; just enough enticement to encourage her into more drawing.

She gave up and slipped silently out of bed. It took her a moment to locate her book and pencils, then she opened the door to the balcony, slipping outside into the silver light of the moon. It washed Atlantis and the surrounding ocean in an ethereal glow, almost bright as a cloudy day.

Teyla settled herself against the wall next to the doors, her knees curled up to be a prop for her pad. She settled back against the wall, bit the end of her pencil a couple of times.

She began to draw.

Time faded into a surreal flow around and through her as she sketched. The light of the moon moved and slanted as it journeyed the sky; this did not cause any pause in Teyla's frantic rendering. Lines bent at her will. Dark and light warred for dominance of the page as she filled it with the image she wanted. The likeness on the page swirled to life as she portrayed the subject she could see in her mind's eye. In what seemed like no time at all, the basic outline began to take on definite characteristics. Even features that had evaded her before effortlessly flowed from her mind, down her arm, through her fingers into the pencil, then onto the page.

With extreme care she added shading, casting gentle lines of moonlight across the page to fall upon the sleeping face she loved so much. She erased a few lines indicative of stress and worry that were never there in sleep; she had allowed herself to sidetrack. With gentle yet definitive strokes she darkened the lines of the tattoo on his neck; paused and considered the image.

It was – missing something.

Teyla got to her knees and opened the door. She peeked inside, toward the bed, trying to be quiet. She needed this beautiful image just as it was, with nothing disturbed and nothing moved.

For a moment she caught herself up in her subject, eagerly drinking in the sight of which she'd never tire. Then she came back to herself and slipped away from the door again, allowing it to close. She felt all at once breathless and at peace.

She tackled her drawing with redoubled effort. Every few seconds she closed her eyes, recapturing the image that threatened to slip away. Her emotion-driven sketch became her world; every fiber of her being focused on that one existence. It suddenly seemed important to finish, to get everything inhumanly perfect. The reasoning for this thought floated just out of reach; she didn't feel like pursuing it.

Teyla's fingers began to cramp. She stopped just long enough to flex them a few times; went back to her work. Her pencil was the tool to capture life and confine it to the page – an act that seemed somehow wrong. How could she cage an enigma so full of energy and presence and _being_ onto something so small and inconsequential?

The thought was roughly pushed away. _She had to try._

No matter how hard she attempted to portray that image perfectly, it continued to evade her. Something was constantly wrong with her drawing. Not enough shadow here; too much there. The few curls of hair that brushed his forehead were all wrong; there were too many lines around his eyes. The beard that ringed his mouth was out-of-proportion –slightly askew to the shape of his lips.

Frustration boiled up inside her. Hours had passed without her noticing; the first brushes of dawn were manifesting themselves in a rosy glow on the horizon. The ocean never ceased its _slap-slap_ against the pier below her; the sounds of the city combined in a long bass hum in accompaniment. Everything was normal; everything was right. How could her drawing not be the same?

Tears pressed against her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She quickly shifted her work so the salty drops wouldn't smear those infuriatingly imperfect lines. She was being sentimental and stupid. Nothing was perfect. _Nobody_ was perfect.

Except, maybe, him. . .

Warm roughness smoothed across her cheeks, banishing her tears; her sketch pad was gently lifted away; set aside. Teyla willingly leaned into the presence that was suddenly just _there_. She drew strength from him as he lifted her effortlessly and carried her exhausted form back to their bed.

She buried her face in his neck and closed her scratchy eyes. She had to swallow thickly twice before she could speak. "Ronon, why must you be so _perfect_?"

Her husband's lashes fluttered in surprise against her temple. "What?" His voice rumbled through his chest and vibrated her a little.

She clung tighter to him. "I can draw _anything_. Why not you?"

A small, sad smile curled Ronon's lips. "Perhaps you're trying to draw me someway I'm not. I'm not perfect – far from it." He absently soothed a loose lock of hair off her face; pressed his lips against her ear. "_Sleep_," he whispered tenderly. "Just close your eyes and sleep."

Ronon's voice was low and hypnotizing. Teyla felt her eyelids immediately respond, heavily lowering to block her vision. "Got to finish—" Her fatigued mind groped for the words required to finish her sentence; the darkness pulled them away from her. She was still trying to search them out when the world slipped away, too.

It might have been Ronon's voice; his words; or a dream. Teyla was sure she would never know exactly what it was. When she woke to the radiant Atlantian sunlight on Ronon's face, relaxed in sleep, she knew what the drawing was missing.

She carefully extracted herself from her husband's embrace and slipped back out to the balcony. She picked up her sketch pad and pencil; closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Then she opened her heart and soul along with her eyes and drew three small, careworn lines across his brow – perfection in his pain.

In the bottom right-hand corner, she swiftly wrote: _Ronon Dex: Perfection_; signed _Teyla Dex_ beneath it. A hush wrapped around her as she reverently stared at her drawing in the early morning sunlight.

Teyla went back inside. She closed her book and returned it to the top shelf of her closet with her pencil. Then she returned to her husband, his protection, and his love.

—At last, she slept.

_-The End-_


End file.
